


High King's Predicament

by Buntheridon



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: AU where Holy hurts the Undead even if it's healing, Actually more plot than I initially intended, Age Difference, Anduin is too nice, BfA, Coming of Age, Completed, Distrust, Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Romance, F/M, First Time, Flirting, Fluff, Hidden sadness, Holy and Undead, Horde vs Alliance, Hurt/Comfort, I seem to have a thing for telepathic sex, Lecherous Misuse of Holy Light, Masturbation, Mentioned suicide, Oh no there are feels, Old Gods Shenanigans, Older Woman/Younger Man, Opposites, Oral Sex, Porn With Somekind of Plot, Power Play, Pre-World of Warcraft: Battle for Azeroth, Reluctant Attraction, Sexual Harassment Kinda, Smut, Suspend your disbelief like your honor points depended on it, Teasing, Telepathy, Temporary Character Death, Typical Cis Euphemisms I'm sorry, Unlikely Pair, Virgin King, World of Warcraft - Freeform, World of Warcraft: Battle for Azeroth, Wrynn Cocks Are Big, Yeah it's serious now, from chapter 7 on a bit more angst, plot happened, ptsd is strong in this one, slightly angsty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-03
Updated: 2019-06-25
Packaged: 2019-08-08 14:19:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 29
Words: 67,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16431041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Buntheridon/pseuds/Buntheridon
Summary: Situated between Legion and Battle for Azeroth, after the destruction of Teldrassil and Undercity. Unabashed smut after the introduction. Edit: Seems to be turning into a REAL STORY, oops. Well, contains smut as much as the accidental plot allows :DIn this story (at least, if not in canon too) Sylvanas is NOT a walking rotting zombie corpse, but (her) undeath means partial or total lack of emotions, physical coldness, inhuman strength and some changes in physiology like not needing to breathe or sleep. For the obvious purposes of this story she is able to have sex even if it would be logical that she has no blood flowing in her veins. Just roll with this :P If you've always wanted a different fate for her then this might be the story for you.How I see them: Battle for Lordaeron video: https://youtu.be/43XvDkd1Yb8(Inspired slightly by Dude from Blackhand’s ”Lady and King” at fanfiction.net as well as the start of KaedeRavensdale’s ”The Wind and the Lion”, here on Ao3.)





	1. A Pilgrimage to the Light

 

 

STORMWIND KEEP

"So Genn, how are your sea legs?" asks Anduin Wrynn, the young king of Stormwind and the High King of the entire Alliance, after the war council had decided they needed to seek the unlikely alliance of the forgotten and remote nation of Kul Tiras. It was agreed that the Gilnean king Genn Greymane and lady Jaina Proudmoore, previously of the Kirin Tor, would sail there as envoys.

"Hmpf, steady as ever!" replies the gray-haired worgen king, smile yanking his lips despite the serious situation. His love for the only child of the late king Varian is as deep as a real father's. The blonde boy was barely 20 when he had to ascend to the throne still grieving his father, who perished prematurely battling the Legion.

Anduin has had to grow and learn to be a leader very quickly. He is a priest by vocation and his diplomatic inclinations were apparent very early in his life. Those orc leaders will never forget the bright voice of a seven year old prince, talking to them in broken orcish about the advantages of a peace treaty. He is considerate, intelligent, a quick student in languages and very spiritual.

His first real battle with a sword - which is somehow required of a king if he wishes to be respected by his people - was only a few weeks ago in Arathi. He did well, but it will never come naturally to him nor will it be something he'd feel was needed in life. He is not like his warrior-gladiator father was. Anduin would make a great leader in times of peace.

Those times are scarce on Azeroth.

After those two, who he considers his aunt and uncle really, had left with the Spymaster and their small army, Anduin decides to take a small detour before returning to the battlefront. He knows he won't be needed there except as a moral support. He informs his royal guards his destination and that it'll be an informal visit. Only two guards are to accompany him.

He wishes to visit Light's Hope Chapel, renew his bonds with the Light once more. The war and the meaningless need for brute force has made his spirit downcast. He misses his father terribly, he misses their arguing about this very thing - he could stay the defender of Light as his father would be the sword and the muscle. They made a good combination in the end... Now Anduin has to be both, it seems.

Speaking of muscles, his arms ache still. He is amazed how his frame has changed in only a year. Genn made him take an exhausting course of sword training in the castle yards, almost like he had known the skill would be needed soon. He still sometimes doesn't recognize himself in the mirror - he looks more like his father now, only instead of raven dark his ponytail is the color of sun-kissed wheat, like his mother's was, and his beautiful face lacks any rage. The slim boy has turned into a broad-shouldered young man with strong thighs and bulging biceps. The court ladies have started to give him longer looks which make him uncomfortable, although he does not show it. Being a small devoted bookworm had kept him safe from any possible temptations until recently.

And that is the problem - he has another, more secret reason to strengthen his ties with the Light. Ever since that day in Undercity, after facing _her_ in King Menethil's throne room... He has been restless. Especially at nighttime. He is ashamed to realize that it's not because he saw the whole army being swallowed by sickly green plague... And it's not because Sylvanas Windrunner, the new Warchief of the Horde and the leader of the Undead was threatening, or unreasonable, or completely out of reach in terms of negotiations - not even because she almost succeeded in killing more than half of the Alliance leadership, including Anduin himself.

He is ashamed to admit that he has been restless because she made him, beyond all reason and propriety, _want_ _her_. It happened right before she vanished, when she came so close to him they almost touched noses. He can hear her haunting voice in his dreams, taunting and sneering, calling him "lion cub" or "boy king". In his dreams she is again facing him, only half an inch from his face, emanating terrible power and being unbearably beautiful - or as beautiful as an undead high elf can be. Countless times he has awoken in the middle of the night, rock hard and drenched in sweat. He, a priest, shouldn't even be able to have thoughts like these! The matters of the flesh should only concern his possible future matrimony when the time comes. And the undead should seem abominations of nature to him… yet he cannot help himself.

The gryphons are packed, saddled and waiting in the keep’s backyard. Anduin steps into the morning sunlight and shrugs the dark thoughts away for a while.

”Your majesty”, his chosen guards greet him in unison.

”Gentlemen”, he nods. "May this short journey to the Chapel strengthen us in the Light and give us inner peace in the times ahead."

They arrive at the border of Eastern Plaguelands at sunset. The lands are partly healed now, thanks to the unrelenting efforts of the Argent Crusade and the Ebon Knights. Anduin watches over his left shoulder, westward, as they fly the last few miles towards the Chapel. There, in the horizon, he can almost see the blight-ridden ruins of Lordaeron, recently also the ruins of the Undercity. He shudders at the memory. Her banshee voice still rings in his ears.

Squinting, he can see a Horde zeppelin moving slowly towards their location. But alas, Light is for everyone who searches it and the Chapel is neutral for both factions.

The king and his bodyguards land in the Chapel yard. A disciple of Light arrives with two Argent Crusaders.

"Lord Maxwell Tyrosus bids you very welcome and sends his apologies for not being present, high king", she informs, bowing deep.

"I was aware of the situation. It is quite all right. My visit is informal, merely as a priest on a pilgrimage. If you can spare a tent for my guards and for myself, we'll be satisfied."

"Of course, your majesty. The royal tents are at their usual place, south of the Chapel."

"Thank you."

Anduin dismisses his guards at the tents and gives them the rest of the night off. He undresses his battleplates in his tent, the heavy gold-and-blue pauldrons and the breastplate with the Lion emblem, the greaves, the gloves. He changes into a comfortable pair of leather boots, and dressed only in a simple tunic, a shirt and priestly white trousers he walks towards the crypt behind the Chapel.

He is concentrated in preparing his mind to a prayer when he detects movement in the small forest area behind the iron fence. First he assumes it an animal but then he feels an unmistakably recognizable aura even before he sees her figure. Anduin freezes and for a moment wishes he had Shalamayne with him. Then he remembers the Light is here stronger than anywhere else in the kingdom.

”What is _this?_ A lion cub here, alone, no big bad wolves in tow?” Her voice is as alluring and annoying as he remembered. A shiver runs through him. He immediately regrets deeply for not keeping his armor on.

”Warchief”, Anduin nods simply, keeping his composure admirably. ”You seem to have lost your way. The front gate is in the opposite direction.”

”I lost my way from the Light many lifetimes ago, as you well know. You, on the other hand, haven’t even begun your journey, little boy.” She eyes him up and down, a small teasing smirk on her black lips.

”Why on Azeroth are you here?” he asks, trying to check where the closest guards are.

”Don’t bother, no-one’s very near. I arranged this private moment with you on purpose.” Her red eyes glow in the dark and she emanates a frightening power.

”Not many people knew I was coming here. I may need to find a traitor among my guards, then.”

”Leave your poor soldiers in peace, Wrynn. You’ll know how I knew, if you forget the prayer for a second and use your mind for some real thinking.”

Sylvanas is dressed surprisingly lightly, a dark hooded cape covering her head and instead of her usual leather armor she has her court robes on, black with silver embroidery. Anduin has never seen her like this.

”A priest never really leaves the prayer in his mind.” In spite of his words his mind races, trying to decipher her insinuations.

”I have on a reliable source that this is untrue in your case, young king. Have you slept well? You seem a bit tired”, she drawls, looking at him through the bars of the iron fence, the darkness of the forest and the night behind her. Her words make him flinch just a bit. He tries to calm down and reassure himself she cannot read his mind. They are standing five feet away from each other but he can feel her strong aura like she was on his skin.

”If you have nothing important to add to the case of your several war crimes, I would like to be left in peace.”

”Oh, but would you _really?_ I seem to remember something _quite_ _interesting_ from the last time we met... in the flesh.” She leans on the fence and her small face barely fits between the bars to peek closer. Her slender fingers slowly take a grip of the steel bars and her eyes are on his.

”Oh, you mean the time when you tried to _murder me and half of the Alliance leaders?”_

His more than justified anger keeps his other feelings at bay. _What does she mean,”in the flesh”? Is there another way to—_ An alarming thought creeps in Anduin’s mind. His pulse starts to quicken. He almost curses as he feels himself harden in his cloth trousers. _It cannot be._

”Yeees, that’s it”, she purrs.

”Wh...what?” He clears his dry throat and tries to aim for nonchalant. ”Lady Windrunner, what are you talking about?”

”You living are so easy to see through. Do you not know most physical feelings have their own distinct smell? I’m convinced your father knew this, being as skilled warrior as he was. Anger, sorrow, hunger, fear… and lust. I can smell them all.” She licks her upper lips just for a small moment, looking intently in the nervous blue eyes of the boy barely of age. She has to admit he is performing terribly well for someone so young. And she is eager to know more of his… performance.

Anduin’s cheeks are bright red and she can hear his pulse racing.

”I— I apologize, lady Windrunner, but I must return to my duties. If you need an official meeting, that can be arranged… at the Stormwind Stockades.” He is angry and ashamed, and wants to be alone as soon as possible. Somewhere deep in his conscience a voice tells him he probably wouldn’t want to be _alone_ as such, but…

”Ohh, the boy has guts! Are you suggesting it will be _you_ who imprisons me?”

In a flash of that purple smoke or magic or something he cannot describe she is now standing in front of him, no more than a few inches between them, on his side of the iron fence. Her hood has fallen on her shoulders revealing her blond curls and long highborne elf ears. He instinctively casts a shielding holy barrier around himself but holds his ground, remembers to behave like a king should.

”Young lion, you are such an adorable little kitten I could eat you whole”, she purrs, moving closer to his face. Her lips are an inch away from his. The young king keeps his composure, looks her in the eyes and manages a wry smirk. He realizes she knows his condition, thus there’s no sense in trying to hide it, and anyway she has probably put several others in this kind of situation. Even if she toys with him and is more powerful if it ever came to dueling, he is on a holy ground now where he has the upper hand.

”If this is your idea of peace talks between our factions, I regret to observe old age does not always come with wisdom.” When he speaks he keeps checking that his lips don’t accidentally touch hers. The idea terrifies and fascinates him but he needs to remain royal even if _she_ doesn’t seem to care about manners. She keeps hovering close to him.

”I am not offering peace… unless the peace to sleep again counts.”

”I… don’t…” He cannot for the life of him believe in such magic. Although he does not know all the things the warlocks and necromancers are up to these days. _Maybe it_ is _possible to enter another person’s dreams?_

”Look. It’s not really that complicated”, she sighs and surprises him by kissing him deeply on the mouth. He has no time to retreat, her hand is on the back of his neck and desire jolts to his loins like a firebolt. He manages to suppress a moan but cannot stop himself from kissing back. Her lips were cold at first but now they’ve warmed on his. She presses herself on his body and his back hits the crypt wall. Her soft lips slide and taste and nib his, suck his lower lip into her mouth.

When her hips meet his erection he startles and finds the strength to push her away.

”Warchief… you forget yourself”, he huffs, heart beating so fast it makes him breathless.

”On the contrary, beautiful boy. I’m most definitely remembering myself… and giving myself a treat.” She touches briefly on her slightly swollen, open lips with her knuckles and glances at his groin.

”You’ll find I won’t be giving anything to you”, he states, casting a fortitude spell on himself. His desire is so strong it aches. He’s not really confident in his words, but he feels this is how he’s supposed to keep his honor. And the honor of his people. Also, this would be his first time, and he has a feeling they wouldn’t be an equal pair. In several ways.

”Suit yourself… for this night. My zeppelin can be found nearby for a few days _when_ you change your mind.”

She is gone in a purple flash. He stays there for a while, waiting for his breath to calm. He descends to the crypt and tries to pray for half an hour, but his painful erection won’t calm down and somehow concentrating in the holy is impossible with it. He’s relieved there aren’t any other pilgrims, although the time _is_ late and there is a war in Arathi. Anduin rises from his kneeling and walks awkwardly back to his tent, wary of anyone coming too close. He hasn’t been in this kind of embarrassing situation but a few times, and he’s always had either a robe, a tabard over is clothes or recently his battle plates. These simple cloth pants reveal almost everything.

He reaches his tent and sighs in relief as he closes the curtain doors and goes to lie on his bed. He knows it’s impossible to sleep in this state, so he yields and reaches for his aching cock. He lets a small moan when he takes it in his hand. The memory of Sylvanas’ voice keeps taunting and whispering in his ears. It’s not often he has had to resort to self-pleasuring - he isn’t as passionate as his father was, his temperament inclines more towards meditation and love. Once a month has always been enough for him and he somehow still feels it’s a bit shameful.

This time it’s different. He has never been this aroused, in such a _need_ before in his life, never had someone particular in his mind when doing it. It makes it even more shameful, and he tries not to think of her, his enemy, while his hand slowly starts stroking his thick shaft. Every stroke feels intense and images of her flash behind his eyelids even if he doesn’t want them to.

_”Yeess, just like that, little boy…”_

Anduin jumps up from the bed covering himself with the blanket but there’s no-one else in his tent. His heart races. It _was_ her voice. He didn’t just imagine it. He sits down and rests his head in his hands, exhausted and stressed. The aching erection needs to be taken care of but how is anything possible in this confusion?

 _”But you aren’t actually very little, are you”,_ Sylvanas’ ghostly, drippingly erotic voice continues. _”In fact you’re well above average size. Must be a family trait.”_

”Will you stop teasing me!” Anduin snaps, making sure he’s silent enough not to alarm his guards in the next tent.

_”Not before you give me what I want. Now be a good boy and take that thick rod of yours in your hand again, you know you need it.”_

Anduin decides to give in on the basis that he still is, technically, alone in his tent. He is going to treat her incorporeal voice like his childhood imaginary friends: it does not count, not really.

”Must you be so vulgar”, he sighs, leans back on his bed and, resigning, does what she’s told him to. ”And how on Azeroth do you do that?”

_”What, the stroking? I’m sure you’ve done it dozens of times by now, but I would be glad to give you a —”_

”No. This method of communication.”

_”Really? Even at a moment like this you’re more interested in my abilities than—”_

”I’m a scholar, I am certain your spies have told you that much of me, ages ago.” He feels more confident in talking to her when she isn’t present with that frightening aura of hers. But even remotely her power intimidates him a bit. Nonetheless, he has his honor, even if his principles are blown to the wind for this mad moment.

_”Yes, I do like them intelligent as well as pretty. I would also be interested in licking you like an ice cone, would you like that, lion kitten?”_

Anduin moans at the scandalous thought. Never would he even have dreamed of something so barbaric for a woman to do. He strokes himself and moans again, his head deep in the pillow. He moves his hand slowly, foreskin sliding deliciously over his engorged tip and back. Earlier he was in a terrible hurry to just get this over with, but now he feels an overwhelming desire to slow it down, enjoy it. He is suppressing his mind from assuming this might be a curse she has cast on him. _She couldn’t do that, not to a priest, not on holy grounds, surely?_

”Don’t avoid my question, Sylvanas”, he grunts while sliding his fisted hand up and down.

_”I am a banshee and an emancipated undead, a necromancer and a student of Arthas. Among many other things. I have abilities you cannot even dream of. This is merely a child’s play compared to some other things I am capable of.”_

”Fair enough”, the High King of the Alliance replies, breathless.

 _”You just called me by my given name. That was very daring of you… Anduin”_ , her voice teases. He gasps. For some reason hearing his name from her unseen lips does indeed feel rather intimate. His hand quickens.

”I… wouldn’t make a habit of it”, he continues with a seemingly polite conversation but with heavier undertones - and breathing - than is usual for him.

_”Just this once then, your highness. Or twice. Or as many times you think yourself able.”_

”Wh… look, I know some men are—”

_”Tsk, tsk, kitten. Do not compare yourself to other men when you do not know your limits. I know you haven’t lain with anyone yet.”_

”…I didn’t know your spies to be _that_ efficient”, he says, sobered and a bit hurt. He stops his self-fondling.

_”It was merely a simple deduction, your royal highness. A priestly, devoted student of the Light with no peers or people of his age around; a protective, powerful father and lots of public duties from a young age. Unless you found a secret Pandaren lady in that little escape trip of yours some years ago…”_

”They are a fine folk, but I personally don’t fancy all that fur.”

_”Indeed. Also I could see it from your face today, so I don’t really need spies to know you’re pure and untouched.”_

If his erection wasn’t as annoying as it is Anduin would end this game right here.

”Look. It’s not as if I haven’t been …propositioned frequently, it’s just—”

_”Oh, I know. Look at you, gorgeous as a son of a god with a body to die for, but you keep shooing them away. They might guess what they’re missing, but the poor things really don’t know like I do now.”_

”You cannot know, you are not here.”

 _”I don’t need to be there to see. Would you like me to come?”_ Her haunting voice makes his cock throb. He has to grip it again.

”No!”

_”Clearly. Now concentrate on the thought of me taking that beautiful member of yours in my mouth and sucking it. You’re way past your bedtime.”_

”You—! By the Light…” the golden-haired young man gasps, scandalized and painfully aroused. He speeds up his movements.

_”Go on, stroke it faster.”_

”Yes...”

 _”I wish you’d let me taste it, king Wrynn”_ , she harasses him sexually like the dirty old lady she is.

”Ahh… Elune save me”, he slips the elven goddess’ name from between his clenched teeth. His hand moves fast now, pre-cum making it all slippery.

Sylvanas is careful not to blaspheme even though she would like to. She knows it would break his temporary submission to the carnal pleasures and through them, to her. Instead she urges him on, ignoring the goddess’ name she now resents for not saving her when she needed her most.

” _Don’t be alarmed, I’m going to show you something in an illusion. Keep that up, there’s a good boy. I would_ so _like to ride that shaft, will you let me?”_ Her voice whispers in his mind, and he is so close now, so near his face is distorted in concentration and lust.

He sees in the illusion Sylvanas without a thread on, slender and curvy as only an elf can be, her glowing eyes looking straight at him. She makes a shushing gesture and then slowly and almost obscenely licks the finger, then two of her fingers from their base knuckle to their tips. When she playfully starts to lower them towards her center, Anduin wails and comes spilling on his fingers, eyes seeing nothing.

A moment later, panting, he reaches for a washcloth. The deprivation of sleep and months of stress weigh on him, and he falls into a deep sleep in seconds. Last thing he hears is Sylvanas’ now soft voice in his ears:

_”Sleep well, your majesty.”_

 

 


	2. Some Compensation

 

LIGHT’S HOPE CHAPEL, EASTERN PLAGUELANDS

Anduin Wrynn wakes up well rested for the first time in weeks. He doesn't even remember having any particular dreams. He hums happily while he gets dressed in the light travel clothes. Then, just as he is about to exit his tent he remembers last night. A deep blush creeps on his cheeks and neck and he has to sit down for fifteen minutes for it to pass. His being feels revived, light and carefree, even if his mind isn't calm anymore. That somehow makes it even more dishonorable - a tryst with the enemy to be able to  _relax!_ Although that wasn't quite the thing in his mind while in the middle of it...

_Am I now less pure than I was before? Is my dedication to Light weakening? Or is this something I should just shrug off, deem as one of life's lessons? People do have... relations, before marriage. It's not against the law, just against my own conscience, really. Though most people do not have them with their greatest enemy._

Finally he manages to calm himself and steps out into the sunlight.

"It's almost noon, sire. We didn't want to wake you, since we knew how tired you'd been. Hopefully that was the right thing to do", his guard says to him, bowing. He is twice his age.

"That is quite all right, Trenton. I really was in need of some rest." Which is why he came here in the first place, to find peace, strength and possibly some guidance before returning into battle. None of which he has achieved. He feels especially detached from Light as he secretly considers himself a traitor both of the Light and of the Alliance.

"I need some more time to pray and meditate. We'll stay here until tomorrow evening. You are free to use this time as you wish, I won't be leaving the Chapel grounds. Check on me in the evening before meal." The guards look happy about that - there seems to be a jolly card game round going on in the dwarves' tent near the gate. Anduin smiles absentmindedly as he watches the guards leave.

He spends the whole day praying, tending the Chapel as disciplinary task, writing diplomatic correspondence and his personal journal, and walking in the graveyard. By the evening meal he feels better, having put the "incident" in some sort of perspective. It's not like anyone will know, and everyone in the Alliance would dismiss the Banshee Queen's possible insinuations as taunting with little real substance. So it is down to his own conscience, and that he can deal with. In time.

After the sunset he retires to his tent although not really feeling tired enough to sleep yet. So he takes up studying. He is reading a book on orcish war strategies when he feels a familiar stir, the restlessness - and now he knows it doesn't come from within, as he has thought all these weeks.

_She managed to penetrate my dreams, somehow, and that is the cause of all this. Whether by a spell or by some other methods. That means she might have needed to be somewhere near, since I now feel her approaching. Where could someone so notable hide herself that would be near enough to the Stormwind Keep?_

_"May I have an audience, High King?"_  Her sarcastic voice sounds in his head and makes his cheeks warm as the fresh memories of yesterday night flood back into his mind.  _This power imbalance has to change, otherwise I will lose everything._

"Why, Dark Lady? I cannot think of anything we would have to talk about anymore."

 _"I can think of several sets of things. And I have a proposition for you."_   The choice of words deepens his blush.

"How do you suppose to meet me? I have no intention of leaving Chapel grounds and I don't believe you could just walk through the courtyard--"

_"Is that a yes?"_

"...Alright, fine, but could you surprise me and not plot anything devious this time?" Anduin sighs, deciding consciously to give her the benefit of a doubt.

Sylvanas Windrunner materializes in front of him inside his tent, surrounded by the purple Banshee dust she seems to use for vanishing and appearing. He jerks up from his desk.

"Devious plots? As I recall all I did was talk you to...  _sleep_ , young lion." Anduin's heart betrays him and quickens his pulse at the sight of her. Her voice awakens all the things she said last night in his head and his cheeks burn. He cannot help himself, as much as he prayed and tried to find inner strength today - his cock stirs again into half erect state. He grits his teeth in embarrassment.

She is dressed in her usual archer's attire, dark wine colored leathers, a hood and some decorative feathers - her war uniform, as it were. She doesn't have her bow and quiver with her though.

She walks slowly towards him, smiling pleased, hips swaying enticingly.

"Stay where you are", he commands. She stops a few feet from him.

"You already know very well distance does not matter to me. I can have you begging for me from a mile away, if I so wished."

"If that were true - why have you come, then?" He keeps his back royally poised and his gaze firm.  _She must want, even need something, and therein hides her weakness. No-one goes this far just for fun... or do they?_

”Let’s just say I like the warmth of a close combat”, she answers and walks the rest of the distance between them. She eyes his bloated black pupils, the quickened heartbeat in his jugular vein, the appetizing bulge in his cloth trousers.

”I think I commanded you to stay where you were”, he says, defiance on his face. His stance betrays him, he is afraid, but mostly not for his life.

Sylvanas slips her fingers on his chin, caresses lightly his jawline feeling his unseen, blond stubble. He shivers but does not pull away.

”Young man, you’ll find I’m not good at taking orders, but I can be a wonderful guide if  _my_  orders are fulfilled.”

”Unless you forgot, I am a king.”

”Oh, but I did not. We are equals, you and I, in rank if not in anything else. And in this moment we can decide to be merely two individuals, not the leaders of our nations.” She sees his eyes flash and detects a slight relaxation on his broad shoulders.  _Ah, so he is mostly bothered about his honor, not his purity. Good._

”I can always  _serve_   _you_  first, High King, if that makes you feel less agitated.” Without warning she drops to her knees in front of him and slides her ungloved hands up his strong thighs. She loses none of her power and dominion while doing so. He gasps and doesn’t find his tongue for a moment. ”And I assure you, it  _will_.” Her smirk is lecherous and playful when she reaches for the ties of his trousers.

”Look now—” the young man tries.

”You can also  _command_  me to do this if you wish, I promise it won’t put me off.” Smiling, she starts pulling his cloth trousers down and Anduin finds himself succumbing to the situation. His breathing is almost panting, but he tries to hide it. He cannot take his eyes off her.

”And do not worry about anyone hearing us. I’ve put spells around your tent.”

Sylvanas gingerly takes his throbbing cock in her hand, and looking him in the eye licks it slowly from base to the tip. The young king gasps at the new, exhilarating sensation. She opens her mouth and sucks the tip, tastes him and hums approvingly. Her lips and tongue are cold at first but as soon as they touch his living flesh they adapt the warmth. She drags her lips again from the base of his shaft to the tip in an openmouthed wet kiss. Anduin closes his eyes and whines.

”May I take it in my mouth, your highness?”, she feigns subordination while holding it near her lips.

”...yes”, he whispers, shaking.

The Banshee Queen slides his thick cock in her mouth, keeping her lips a tight fit and humming. Anduin moans deeply, his breathing uneven. She sucks it expertly, slowly taking it all the way to her throat, then sliding it back out. His knees threaten to buckle.

”I suggest you lean on something, your majesty”, she advices smirking and they move so he can rest against his writing desk.

”Anduin. The way things are, I am going to suck you off once before doing anything more ...advanced. Promise to be a good boy and not dismiss me before I’ve had a chance to ride you like the stallion you are.”

He nods, barely noticeably, cheeks burning red. She eats his cock like the best - and biggest - lollipop there ever was, tasting, licking and teasing. She caresses his balls gently while taking him completely to the back of her throat. It doesn’t take long, young and inexperienced and, in this occasion, lust-filled that he is. He grips the edge of the table, knuckles white, and comes in her mouth moaning, gasping, almost doubling over.

She swallows it all and wipes the side of her lips, smiling.

”You called me by my given name, Dark Lady”, he jests, breathing slowly calming down.

”I’d say we are introduced enough to do so in private, don’t you agree?” She gets up to stand in front of him, crowding so he is trapped between her and the table, lips lingering near his.

”I won’t shock you by kissing you immediately after that, but know that I was about to”, she teases. His nose twitches a bit, he can smell himself on her breath. But whatever is said about Anduin Wrynn’s qualities, narrow-minded or prude he is not. Also he feels the need to establish some balance to their power dynamic. He smiles slyly for a second, slides his hand gently but firmly to the back of her hooded neck and kisses her openmouthed.

Sylvanas purrs in agreement and softly pushes her tongue in, at the same time entwining her slender legs between and around his muscular thighs. She kisses him back deeply until he too dares to move his tongue tentatively -  _what a gentleman_ , she smirks inwardly - and replies to her licks. Somehow that - the first voluntary sexual move from his part - makes her lust flame up. He makes a small surprised sound in his throat.  _Did he feel that?_

”That wasn’t so bad”, he decides, once their lips part. She can hear the slight nervousness in his joking but all in all he is admirably calm and cool considering who he is facing.

”I agree. And that’s not  _all_  you are going to taste tonight.” Her voice is a mixture of the metallic, scary banshee voice and an erotic purr, and to Anduin’s complete surprise he feels his member twitch back to life already.  _Unbelievable_.  _Never before has that happened so fast._

She takes a step back and with small, elegant movements of her wrists and fingers she unclasps the battle gear she is wearing. She lets the leather pieces drop to the carpet one by one. Still leaning to the table he watches, mesmerized. She is as beautiful as she was in the vision, that wasn’t magic or deception. The curve of her hip is incredibly alluring. He swallows the urge to ask how it was possible to inhabit her body again after all that time as an incorporeal servant to Arthas. He is curious, but it’ll have to wait for a better timing.

"So... You had a proposition?"

"Yes. The fairly obvious one."

She stands proudly, tauntingly in front of him. He admires, for a fleeting second, how she doesn’t have any timidness or shame while he himself felt overly self-conscious when his pants were pulled down. Well, she  _did_  hint him being adequately …equipped. Anduin has never really felt ashamed of any part of himself, mental or physical, nor has he had any opportunity to compare himself to other boys when growing up. So until now he hasn’t really thought about these things - in his thinking  _love_  would have been more important than any part of anyone’s looks. But now, here, before this haunting beauty with decades of experience he has to admit a big part of his earlier nervousness - concerning purely this sexual situation, never mind the political or existential ramifications right now! - were because he was not sure he’d be  _good enough_. He never thought he’d end up in  _this_  situation with anyone else than his recently wedded wife.

And now that he’s got this far in this line of thought he realizes he is not sure of himself yet either. This burning lust the like of which he has never felt before clouded any reasonable thinking but now his nervousness comes back with a kick. Even if his …proportions were acceptable how is he going to know how to  _perform?_ His thinking bypasses completely the notion that he's concerned about  _not pleasing his sworn enemy._

”Relax, your highness. I am a  _very_  good guide.”  _Like she knew…_ but then again she did say his inexperience was easy to read from his face.

She urges him to undress by sliding her chilling hands under his shirt and tunic, over his pectorals and nipples, until he has to pull the clothes over his head. He steps out of the fallen trousers and into her space. She loves the almost steaming warmth that his living body emits as much as she loves his shape and fresh boyish beauty. And he is half erect already.

”Well, well,  _someone_  approves. Come, lie on the cot. I will show you something.” Anduin obeys, cheeks burning, nervousness and a weird exhilaration in his movements. He does have a small voice inside his learned mind yelling him this might even be an assassination attempt, but he silences it. When he’s reclined on the pillows Sylvanas climbs on top of him, first on his hips then crawling slowly higher. When her thighs rest around his neck his mind visits the murder suspicion a second time.

”No, dear boy, this time I’m not doing any harm to you. Why would I kill you now when you can provide me with so much pleasure yet?” She leans on the top frame of the simple bed and he realizes, cock twitching, what she’s proposing he do.

”Although, if one has to die, I wouldn’t deem this the worst way to go.” Her metallic voice is flavoured with amusement. She lowers herself slowly on his mouth so he has time to see what he has never seen in the flesh before. Sure, there were some  _books_ — but this is still an uncharted land to him. To his surprise he likes her scent. It’s musky and salty like the sea, not undead at all. She tastes the same, already slick from their games. He opens his lips and gently takes in his mouth whatever part of her happens to be there and she moves herself so he finds the right spot. A deep sigh escapes her lips when his warm mouth encloses on her clit.

”Oh yess...  _That_ , right there.”

His cock hardens into full attention. Moaning, Anduin raises his hands on her buttocks and starts gorging her. He tries different ways and areas and pressures with his tongue and lips, like a true scholar taking note of the sounds she makes and her guiding movements. Soon she is riding his face, rhythmically sliding and pressing on him, moaning with abandon. He sucks her nub and pushes his tongue inside her in every passing. Sylvanas howls like the banshee she is when her orgasm washes over her.

_It’s always so much hotter with the living._

”You truly are a good student”, she purrs and slides down his body. He is panting, face glistening, smiling like a lunatic for a second. She takes his throbbing manhood in her hand and slowly guides it inside her while watching his face. Anduin’s mouth gapes and his eyes close as her tightness slides on his cock. When it’s completely sheathed inside her she lets a whine.

”Ohh, your royal size is such a  _luxury_.”

”I don’t think... our line has... endured because of  _that”,_ he manages to joke.

”I wouldn’t put it past Fate’s whims”, she laughs. She almost says:  _”well, technically that’s exactly what has happened”_ but leaves it as a thought, snickering to herself. She also refrains from mentioning anything about his father.

Sylvanas starts riding the kingly rod, keeping her small, cold hands on the hot skin of his tight abs. Even though she does not need to breathe to survive she lets herself immerse in the moment and allows enticing little whines and moans from her lips on every movement of her hips. Anduin’s mouth is slightly open, his blue eyes hazy as they watch her above him. He presses his warm hands on her thighs and starts pushing up to meet her. She moans louder.

"Oh  _yes_ , you are a natural, your highness..."

She leans her hands on the mattress on both sides of his frame and gives him more room for movement. He pushes his hips up, his cock pounding her just right. Somehow the war and the enmity suddenly resurface in his mind with similarities to this raging lust and before he even realizes it he has flipped them around and is now vigorously thrusting inside her from top position. She laughs, delighted in surprise, and wraps her legs around his waist.

"My, my, the lion cub truly has grown."

 _"Do -- not -- call -- me -- that!"_  He growls, thrusting deep on every word and making her moan. His now almost dark eyes look into her red glow with a renewed confidence and she  _loves it_  - to have an opponent almost worthy of her respect. Something in the rage makes him grab her slender wrists and lock them above her head with one of his big hands. She plays along, enjoying it mightily, not letting him remember she is several times stronger than him. Also she thinks he kind of deserves a moment of revenge or domination - and she considers him smoking hot when he dares do something like that to  _her._ There aren't many on Azeroth who would.

Sylvanas pushes to meet his hips, grinding herself on him, seeking the peak of her pleasure. The boy looks vexed, determined and completely engulfed in passion. His golden hair is messy, sweat gleaming on his temples, his brows an angry wrinkle. He holds her hands trapped with one hand and slides his other palm to her neck, all the while fucking her relentlessly. A caress turns into a tentative grip, a moment of madness makes him wonder just  _how_  strongly built she really is. She senses the dark change in him and it arouses her to no end. She lets out a gasp.

She knows better than to mention his sudden raw hatred - addressed, and he'd probably chastise himself and quit the delicious act unfulfilled. Instead she releases small, almost undetected - and all but forgotten - spells to soothe harmful feelings. She decides it best to let him stay on top till the end.  _This time_. The queen offers her neck defiantly to the boy king in feigned submission and grinds herself up against his pubic bone, moaning. She's almost at her climax, and she can feel it wouldn't take much to push him over too.

"A bit more... Yes... More!... Ahh... Aahh...  _Anduin_ \-- _-!"_

She arches her back and comes, keeping her red eyes open for him to see how they flare during her orgasm. He moans, surprised, and her clenching around his cock sweeps him away. He climaxes in the wake of her waves, growling at the force of it, eyes shut tight and beautiful lips open. She loves his hot semen inside her, it's scorching compared to her permanent dead coldness.

After a moment of panting he releases her hands and, becoming self-conscious, attempts to pull out. She locks him inside her with her legs around his waist.

"Not yet, lover boy." It's the first time she doesn't sneer her words. His eyes jump to look at her, so drastic is the change. She pulls him into a deep wet kiss, feeds off his warmth just a moment longer. Her quim still pulses lightly. Then she releases her grip, lips lingering on his. Anduin pulls out, now without hurry, and lies next to her, a thoughtful wrinkle on his brows.

After a moment he speaks his mind.

"So. You think a marriage between us would end the hostilities?"

If Sylvanas wasn’t undead already she would choke on her burst of laughter.

 

 


	3. Warfront Activity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This keeps happening to me: There’s more plot than I intended at first. This is still mainly meant to be a smut and plot twists leading to smut.

Anduin wakes up, feeling refreshed and well rested. After a minute or two he also realizes he is alone, which isn’t a surprise. He sighs as yet again he is faced with his personal chastisement. _How did I succumb to her even though I know very well she is worse than even a regular enemy? Did she use some spell or…?_

He knows she didn’t.

 _I went along willingly and consciously. And oh, did I really, actually, literally ask her to marry me?_ His face rests in his palm for a moment.

_I really hope she forgets that._

Then he remembers his murderous anger he had let loose just like that. _Dear eternal Light, even if she’s the enemy it’s dishonourable to attack her when she’s …in a vulnerable… position._ Blood rises to his cheeks and he draws a deep breath. Even though he didn’t carry out his shameful, violent fantasy (and _dear Light_ now he remembers how they were positioned then, and what it felt like…) it’s enough for this gentle soul to realize even he has a dark side in him.

 _I must concentrate on something I can control_.

After writing a short letter he seals it and steps out of his tent. The travel preparations seem to be all done. He calls for a courier.

”Please deliver this to SI:7 Headquarters in Stormwind as soon as you can.” 

”Immediately, your majesty.”

Following the breakfast the king and his guards, accompanied by some twenty soldiers heading for the same destination, start towards the warfront in Arathi Highlands. Anduin is deep in thought through the whole journey. Even after Lordaeron was lost and some skirmishes very obviously resolved the battle seems to pick itself up in a cycle of one or two days. _It’s like they all want to continue, like it was a game of sports._ Some wise people would claim the arguments have been settled already - or they are so preposterous even the Horde cannot justify them. And yet… it all just goes on and on. The Alliance had been aware of Saurfang doubting Warchief Windrunner even before it was made clear in the big battle. Now he is locked up in the Stockades and doesn’t even seem to want to get out. 

_I should have imprisoned her, or fought her, not… done what we did._

Contrary to what he expects he doesn’t feel much remorse, only concern about the possible political repercussions of the act should it be revealed. But the power of his desire is genuine - it stirs again at the memory of her thighs around his ears or her lithe body under him. _It must be because she was the first._ And then his blush deepens - _I allowed my enemy to be my first lover! And there is no-one I can talk about this with, no-one._

His objective tomorrow is to meet the leadership, to discuss long term plans for the area and possibly appear among the combatants for moral support. Sylvanas also has left her generals in charge there and is not leading it personally, not after the confrontation of Anduin, Genn, Jaina and Alleria. _And by confrontation I mean attempted murder,_ he grimaces.

 

***

 

ARATHI HIGHLANDS’ WARFRONT, EASTERN KINGDOMS

 

The battlefield between Horde and Alliance bases in Arathi Highlands seems quiet when the king meets the local leaders the next afternoon. They have a good vantage toward the whole area from an open sided tower near the Keep. They look through maps and recent logs and spy reports. Anduin listens to the latest developments. The situation appears to be just like he had thought: the skirmishes rise and end but nothing major seems to come of them.

”Thank you, ladies, gentlemen. I will stay here for a short period of time to encourage the troops and to further discuss plans. But it seems unlikely that this would be a major location of events anymore, the Horde being more interested in strengthening their army with new allies, just like we are, and surprisingly, their war fleet… We might have been just in time with the journey to Kul Tiras.”

A hurried messenger comes in their view, galloping through the empty battlefield like their life depended on the speed.

”Something’s changed”, grunts General Gearheart, an old war tactician from Durnholde.

When the gasping messenger reaches them they also see clouds of dust and movement on the Horde end of the field. Time for a new match, perhaps?

”Your Highness, thank the Light you are here!”

”What is it? Speak freely!”

”Warchief Windrunner has returned herself and is rallying the remaining forces towards us as we speak!”

Anduin is amazed to feel a stir in his loins equal to his will to defend his people. _I have truly changed._ The knowledge of her nearness wakes an unusual exhilaration in him. He stops his face from smirking like a wily chess player and instead checks that Shalamayne is on his belt.

”It seems we guessed her strategies wrong, then”, says one of the lieutenants.

”It might not mean that. If her spies found out I was here it could be just one of her taunting games again”, he huffs, rising to his full hight, back straight and chin up.

”Let’s show her what we’re made of.”

The officials glance at each other, surprised in the change in their once peaceful king. But then again he had been in the Ruins of Lordaeron when she drowned it in blight. That sort of thing must change people, especially if you’re as young as Anduin Wrynn is.

”Yes, your majesty”, they answer in unison.

Soon the Horde reaches their war towers stomping and yelling with a new vigour, with skeletal horses and a few tanks. The Shal’dorei archers start firing them from above and the orcs and goblins start hacking the tower legs with their axes. All seem very much the same as before, game-like and almost sporty. But then _she_ appears on top of a tank, standing tauntingly in her war pose, graceful, haunting and ethereally beautiful. Anduin gulps.

”I will go face her, otherwise she might kill everyone else just for show.” He unsheathes his heirloom sword and runs at the edge of their watch tower. Sylvanas turns her head up towards him and smiles wickedly, pleased like a cat seeing a mouse. His betrayer of a cock stirs and he curses in his mind. He tries to channel that towards useful aggression.

”Windrunner! Have you lost your way? We are not starting this battle again!” he yells over the field.

”Well, well, if it isn’t my _betrothed!_ The battle is never over! I came to have some Alliance dogs for breakfast!” she answers, glee in her eyes as she aims her lethal bow at his ground troops. With half an ear Anduin can hear his officials laugh at her pet name for him and wonder among themselves if she’s completely loony or what.

”It’s afternoon, you devious _cave bat!_ Stop this at once!” He raises the sword that glows a bright holy light now.

”…or you’ll do what, little priest?” She fires and it hits with an arcane explosion over several soldiers who fall immediately.

Anduin pops a falling spell and a shielding bubble on himself and jumps down from the tower, leaving his officers gasping and yelling behind him. Sylvanas’ smile widens and she shifts her aim at him. _Really?_ He dispels the slow fall and lands with full speed, force and weight on her tank, right before her, thrusting Shalamayne downwards with the momentum and breaking the tank’s cannon in two.

”I just love it how you use your sword, truly skilled for a first timer.” There's seduction in her voice. Looking her in the eye he amplifies the holy shield and mass resurrects the soldiers she just hit, their spirits still lingering near enough. They scurry off to heal themselves. Anduin comes close to her, almost making her back down a bit. He can endure her aura now better than before. That's something, at least.

”But I’m not a first timer, am I?” he says aggressively, gritting his teeth.

”You might become as good as your sire was if you keep at it.”

Their conversation is yelled, amidst the noise of the armies and tanks and horses, but he cannot be sure if they are heard or not. Anduin does not appreciate her insinuating insults, especially when these have started to seem consistent. He raises the weapon sideways to her throat and she allows it, mockingly, keeping her bow resting on the side. The battlefield seems quieter now.

”I told you, unless you surrender—”

”What, it’s not bloody at all”, she teases, voice dripping sex, eyeing at the sword under her chin. He can sense her seemingly endless desire and bloodthirst like a wave, and he’s not sure if she’s sending it or if he has developed a new ability.

”Of course it’s not. I wouldn’t use it that way, I’m no brute.” A small laugh escapes her enticing lips for his answering flirt.

”Well, well, you might just need to prove that!” Sylvanas hoists her bow like a club and might have hit him if he hadn’t been fast with his holy shield. He immediately extends it to an explosion of Light that throws her flying backwards from the tank roof. She recovers mid-air and uses the movement to backflip to her feet and is again aiming him with a deadly arrow. The priest king casts Penance on her and it hits perfectly. She wavers a second, seemingly confused, then shrugs and practically flies to the nearest siege tower.

At this point the Alliance Arathi leadership decides the battle was seriously on and orders the troops to attack. There had been a silent moment when both armies had stared the two new faction leaders in their face-off, wondering what might happen, would either kill or wound the other. One or two trolls had a fleeting thought that those two looked like dey was courtin' romantic’ly like, mon.

Anduin runs after her and jumps onto the steps of the tower but he’s not too lightweight in his very non-priestly plates. Once he is up at the top he finds her reclining on the pillars like there was nothing going on here. The top of the tower is a sort of half open room and they are at the moment shielded from people’s eyes. _This was probably what she planned,_ he muses.

”What do you want, Sylvanas?” he huffs after running up.

”Oh, nothing you couldn’t easily provide.”

”I don’t think we should do that anymore”, he says and hears how disappointed his own voice sounds. _I do not want to end the affair?!_ He cannot believe himself. She only cocks her head and he needs no words to know she heard it too.

”I’ve had my fun here. If you can come up with a plausible excuse for me to leave, I will.”

”I can always blow you out of this tower with some well-aimed Smites, that good?”

”Not the most elegant option, but that will have to do. You’ll be sleeping in the northern tower tonight, yes?”

She walks backwards to the ledge and aims her bow towards the young king.

”Ye— _what?”_

By the time his Smite sends her hurling backwards in the air her arrow explodes on him and he flies to the opposite direction only to be saved in the last moment by his fall slowing spell. Sylvanas lands on her feet, agile as ever. Anduin gathers himself and the sword from the ground, popping a heal on himself. They leave their armies to squabble in the field and retreat to their respective keeps.

 

****

 

”But didn’t it almost look like they was being friendly?”

”You always thinks all royals are pals, Ron. The king hates her for letting his father die, that’s sure as Helheim.”

”But... I heard she did it to save the troll Warchief.”

”Are you with the Alliance at all?”

”I’m just sayin’. It looked like flirting to me.”

”Everytime there’s a female with a good weapon you think of sex. You’re a hopeless pig, Ron.”

”Well, you got me there, Art.”

The two soldiers continue sipping their ale in silence. Overhead the Warchief of the Horde sneaks undetected from the northeastern tower towards the one where the High King of the Alliance is preparing for rest, restless.

”Thank you, Logan. You may leave now”, Anduin Wrynn says nervously and earlier than usual, although he almost trusts the Dark Lady wouldn’t appear in front of his manservant. _But you never know, she might think it amusing._ He feels her presence and is unsettlingly aware of his arousal again. _Would this happen with other ladies as well? If I had met a nice girl and…_

He realizes he cannot even think of nice girls in this state.

_”Your majesty.”_

”Warchief.” He doesn’t turn around. He closes the armor chest and stands up. This time he has his priest’s tunic on, with long hems up to his knees and motifs of the Lion of Stormwind.

”I will have to ask you to end these games, Windrunner. They will lead us nowhere.” He feels her standing right behind him and the hair in the back of his neck prickles. He has an erection already.

”But _Anduin_ , I know you enjoy them almost as much as I do.” Her voice drips treacle. He closes his eyes, bearing the force of the shiver it sends through him. Bracing himself he turns around to face her. The sight of her beauty almost makes him startle. His cock throbs.

”As much as I might, I’m not at liberty to behave like this. I don’t care if you don’t see it the same way. We will end this now and if you want to meet me, do it through official channels. Preferably by giving yourself up to our military tribunal.”

”You know the only manner I will be giving myself to you is this, little lion.” She opens her arms in a presenting gesture and tilts her head to the side like they were talking about something trivial. ”And didn’t you just propose to me yesterday? You haven’t heard my answer yet.” Her grin is wide. The young king feels himself starting to sweat. 

”That was… You are not seriously…” 

”Oh, but _I am,_ if it is a way to continue this delicious little pastime.”

”What is the purpose of it? The limits of my sanity in this tug between myself and my duties? The destruction of the Alliance from within? Know that I will report this all, even the most shameful parts, to my council should I feel I was starting to become a danger to the kingdom!”

”Is shame really what you feel when you are with me?”

Anduin stops there and listens. Her voice does not betray any weakness, but he thinks he can detect a tiny fragment of sadness, somehow. Maybe it’s not in her voice… the feeling seems to be floating around her. He remembers having this phenomena earlier - he could feel something off her she didn’t quite say or show or send herself. A bit like a heatwave but different, lighter, more primal.

”You know it isn’t. I misspoke in anger. Does shame have a distinct smell?” His scholar side surprises them both.

”Shame, guilt and fear smell the same, so no.” Anduin keeps his eyes on her. Shrugging, she continues.

”No, you don’t smell like any of them at the moment.”

He nods.

”Your rage in the battlefield smelled the same as your lust does now.” He blushes. ”You seem to be growing more into a warrior like your father, although you probably never reach the same melee abilities he had.”

”You _really_ want me to ask about that?” He is irritated, his brows wrinkled.

”What, little lion?” she purrs and steps closer. He lets a Holy barrier grow around him, mainly to show her he isn’t playing this time. His erection aches but he decides to ignore it. Her dark lips linger an inch away from his while her red eyes scan his blue angry ones.

"Would that bother you, or in fact matter at all?" she answers his silence with a question.

"It bothers me. And it will matter, if I find out you have manipulated more kings than one."

She laughs mockingly.

"I have, literally, _manipulated_ more kings than you can count. But in the sense you are using the word - no. I do this only for the sheer pleasure of it. Do you think I would have relations below my station? And you do know _no-one_ could have bewitched him after Onyxia."

Anduin breathes out like he had been holding it.

"So you admit you -"

"Yes, I fucked your father. What else would you like to hear? How you are shaped like him, downright to the last appendages? But otherwise you are not his mirror image, nor could anyone really compare the two of you, if they knew you both."

Anduin closes his eyes, letting all the mixed feeling flow through him like he had learned in Pandaria. He is hurt, in a small and selfish way, but the truth in her words is more meaningful than that. People compare them just because they are family. Surprisingly he wonders if he could now have someone to talk to who knew his father more… intimately than as their king. He shrugs the idea off.

”I haven’t manipulated you into anything that you didn’t want to do, High King. Even if I like dominating the sheer idea of forcing is abhorrent to me. And I do remember your class specialization”, she remarks dramatically.

Anduin feels something that doesn't come from within him. Some faint emotion from her makes him sharpen his senses again. She says she's in this for the pleasure, and there's no denying he has given himself to that too. But the feeling he catches is ...loneliness, longing? She is too proud and so many times hurt to ever admit to it, but it makes sense. Anduin opens his eyes.

Sylvanas understands the empathetic look in his eyes and grimaces. She's not about to become anyone’s charity case, so it just might be time to end this delightful entertainment after all. She sighs, letting him hear the flavor of her disappointment in her tone. It hits him straight in the loins.

" _Fine_. But you _will_ miss me madly, mark my words.”

"Wait--"

She's gone. And in his gut Anduin knows she's painfully right.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This would be a nice and melodramatic place to end the story, but I do have plans to continue...  
> The incident Sylvanas is admitting to is described in my one-shot Of Elven Bondage.


	4. Disturbance in the Council

STORMWIND CITY, ALLIANCE TERRITORY, EASTERN KINGDOMS

High King Anduin Wrynn wrinkles his young face in concentration. He is trying to listen to the report from Zandalar warfronts but his senses pick up disturbing emotions from the room. Genn Greymane's letter is long and detailed and Anduin asked it to be read to the whole council. His lack of sleep isn't helping.

Earlier that week the SI:7 had found suspicious marks of portal magic under the High King's personal chambers. The room in question is used as seasonal cloth storage and thus is rarely visited. There had been signs of someone residing inside for hours at a time but nothing indicated any attempts to break the lock or the door.

The young king finds himself imagining lady Sylvanas Windrunner sitting there in the dark under his bedroom reaching for his consciousness and making him see unnervingly erotic dreams. The picture does not really fit, but there you have it. The Warchief of the Horde in the heart of his kingdom without anyone noticing. He decided not to tell his spies who they were investigating - Anduin merely said he had been given an anonymous tip of an infiltration.

And there it is again - that pulsating feeling of... Well, he cannot be mistaken, not anymore. Now he has enough experience on the subject. Someone in this room is feeling a fairly strong sexual desire. He glances around and all his advisors and war council members seem concentrated and calm - much to his shame, as he himself isn't. Luckily he has always been good at multitasking.

Even without these new abilities of picking up people's emotions from the air he doesn’t feel he’s being a very good and focused king. Ever since Sylvanas (in the privacy of his thoughts he always uses her given name) vanished from messing with his life his life has been... a mess. He wouldn't have guessed he'd miss her this much and in such a painfully diverse way. He's a wreck. He sleeps even worse than when she was poking in his dreams. He would recognize her altered dreams now - these are not those. These dreams - _well_. These are entirely the achievement of his own subconscious and cravings.

And they are even worse than what she made him live through. During daytime he keeps having these little flashes of recollection and he feels a sort of mix between melancholy, anger and unending need. At night his dreams walk him through a cavalcade of ethereal high elves pinning him down and licking his body parts, sliding on his skin like velvety snakes, filling his mouth with a soft, round breast. And her voice keeps murmuring on the background, mostly teasing unchastely, but sometimes he hears her sad and lamenting.

Waking up to a hard-on would be enough. More than once a fortnight he has woken up squeezing himself, ejaculating and moaning. He has made a habit of wearing long pyjama pants just to save his sheets and himself from embarrassment with the chamber servants.

His slowly burning need added to the new ability - did his time with Sylvanas make it bloom or was it just a coincidence? - results in him being unable to walk the corridors of the Keep in peace anymore. Now he can pick up all these whirls and clouds of _desire_ around him, when he passes court ladies who smile and curtsy and afterwards giggle, when a lone messenger glances at him, when he greets diplomats. He prays the Light this doesn't go to his head - but overall there seem to be a lot of people who to his even now innocent amazement find him ...very attractive.

That's the raunchiest verbalisation of the fact he dares to come up with.

Even coming from unknown people the emotions affect him. The admiration and lust bombarded from all directions are like abrasions to a wound. He’s starved and the whole city seems to be dangling delicious food in front of him. But only the sort of food he’s allergic to.

Finally the letter is read and he issues his advisors their tasks. And now he spots the source of the disturbing emotion - an adjutant to one of the council members looks at him a bit too long and with a specific sort of haze in his eyes. Hiding his own perpetual want behind a polite smile Anduin nods at the young man, who blushes and casts his eyes down.

_How will I survive this?_

Ending the meeting he leaves towards Stormwind’s Mage Quarter on a gryphon. He lands at the tower and goes up the stairs to meet the portal trainer.

”Good day, miss Purdue. Might I trouble you for a moment about… _the_ _matter_ in the Keep?”

”Of course, your majesty. I’m at your service.” She bows and they leave the tower. When they're alone, the king continues.

”What have you discovered?”

”After completing my own research I consulted the warlocks about Fel portal technology and I think it’s possible to create the same portal anew.”

”Indeed? Will you be able to manage it by yourself?”

”Yes, my lord.”

”I have a request for you, and it’s a bit of a secret one.”

”Always ready for an adventure, my lord”, the mage smiles. Anduin is relieved to notice no amorous emanations off her.

 

***

 

”But wouldn’t it be better to have more backup with us?” the portal trainer asks.

”I have a fairly certain hunch about this, and because nothing here indicated even any attempts at foul play or violence, I think I’m… we’re safe.”

”If you’re sure, your majesty… It will be open on both sides, due to our multidisciplinary approach.” She starts casting the portal spell, enhanced with a glowing shard she got from the warlocks. Once the portal is ready it almost fills the small closet. They examine it and try to peek into it without touching.

”I can’t really see what’s on the other side. Either it’s dark in there or it’s in a closed room like this.”

”There’s no way to know its whereabouts?” king Wrynn asks, forehead wrinkled in thought.

”Yes, of course - my apologies, my lord, I forgot to say. It’s definitely in the Eastern Kingdoms, but considerably far from here. I’d estimate even further than Booty Bay, so Plaguelands or Quel’Thalas is my educated guess.”

”Thank you, miss Purdue. This will be enough. Let’s leave it there.”

”Won’t it be dangerous?”

”I’ll have more guards posted at the main entrance here, it’s the only way further if someone happens to crawl through it, which I doubt very much. I’m the only one who comes around here, so any extra movements will be easy to notice.”

”Very well. Glad to have been of assistance.” They leave after Anduin locks the closet door and calls the guards.

_If that’s not an invitation I don’t know what is._

 

***

 

SILVERMOON CITY, HORDE TERRITORY, EASTERN KINGDOMS.

 _That infuriatingly kindhearted brat._ Warchief Sylvanas Windrunner fumes as she strides through Murder Row in Silvermoon. _We could have had a perfectly satisfying thing going but no, he had to become the saviour. I hate the honourable types._

She can still see his smile in her mind. It makes her grimace.

_But somehow they seem to be my type, nonetheless._

She had thought the ending of the fling a slap in his pious face but to her annoyed amazement these weeks without any other release than violence have proven to be quite ...inconvenient. To _herself._

After the destruction of Undercity - _fine, ok, after I decided to destroy it_ \- she had mostly stayed in Orgrimmar, being the Warchief and all. But as often as her duties allowed she would visit her hometown and stay there. Thanks to modern portals, she sometimes came after a day in the office just to rest here. And of course to torment the little king.

That had been a perfect infiltration, save for passing as a human on the streets. Her necromancers had acquired a Stormwind portal shard off an adventurer from Pandaria and after some tweaking they managed to shift the end location inside the Keep. It had been terribly risky and not very accurate - they could have ended up on Wrynn's lap on the throne for all they knew. Luckily it had slid perfectly into a linen closet close to the young king's bedroom.

All this had been done in a small house in Eversong Woods she had chosen. It was remote and abandoned, in the mountains behind Farstrider Retreat. She had some furniture and equipment brought in but otherwise it was like it had been. No-one knew who owned it and she liked to keep it that way, wards around the area prevented anyone or anything else from entering there.

She had destroyed the portal after ending their liaison, but all the rest is in place still. And she desperately needs to be alone right now.

 

STORMWIND CITY

Anduin walks restlessly in circles in his bedroom. He can't stop thinking about the open portal below him. The possibility makes him itch, and while he usually is very patient this case is proving to show him in a very awkward light.

_She won't come through even if she happens to come back to the portal site. She's too careful ...and too proud._

He stops.

_I'm not being rational. I haven't told anyone about her and the portal. I should have. And I'm definitely not acting in the best interests of my Kingdom. But is this against them, precisely? If I am aiming at peace, if I can get her to listen, to open up..._

He shakes his head silently and huffs.

_This isn’t about politics at all. I just want to see her._

Ten minutes later, after writing a short and cryptic note and leaving it on his desk, the High King of the Alliance buckles his belt and leaves the Keep through a portal with an unknown destination.

 


	5. Quel'Thalas at Teatime

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where drinking tea features as a powerful plot device.  
> Apparently everything else is about cocks.

 

EVERSONG WOODS, QUEL’THALAS

Sylvanas Windrunner, Warchief of the Horde relaxes in her secret cabin lying on a divan and smoking a Silvermoon waterpipe with melon flavour. This is the only place where she can truly be alone these days. She has taken off her wargear and is dressed up in a long white nightgown that’s half open from the front. She puffs smoke circles, deep in thought. Her fingers slide languidly over her quim, swollen, slick and recently satisfied.

Then a shift in the air makes her stop and chuckle.

”That little piece of…”

She gets up and walks barefoot down the cellar stairs. Reaching the end she listens behind a thick locked wooden door.

”Hello?” she hears him call, not too loud. Hearing his voice makes her smile and she doesn’t even realize to wipe it immediately.

”Sylvanas. I can feel you are close. May we meet?”

_Ah._

She steels her features routinely and turns an old key in the lock. She is greeted with a nervous but warm smile that pinches her cool demeanor. Like a mirroring game of her a moment before opening the door Anduin quickly changes his expression to somewhat polite and businesslike. What she doesn’t know is the priest felt her brief pure delight through the door just then.

”Your majesty. Are you sure  _you_  are not lost this time?”

”No, my lady. I’m exactly where I intended to be.”

They look at each other for a fleeting two seconds, Sylvanas registering the title he just used, unwittingly or not, before she breaks the tension.

”So you intended to force yourself into my private residence. What a juicy gossip that will make.”

”Not if you don’t tell. And I’m only reciprocating.” Again that charming flash of a smile. What  _is it_  with these Lightwielders?

”Why are you here, Wrynn?” She keeps a cold front and crosses her arms.

”Truthfully? I can’t sleep.” He does look exhausted and that seems to make him speak candidly. A wide lecherous grin spreads on the undead elf’s face. She laughs and the young human starts and blushes violently.

”No! I didn’t mean— oh  _Light…”_ A moment passes while his palm meets his tired face.

”Are you certain you didn’t? Except - I remember you breaking our brief engagement yourself. I’m not sure your conscience would allow any more dalliance outside of wedlock.” Her half mocking, half purring voice makes him confused. She radiates gentle sexual ripples, like she did after their… intimate encounter. He isn’t at all surprised to feel his cock swelling already - one of the reasons he had chosen to wear his plate armor.

”No… I was about to say… that something has kept me awake at night and…”

”It wasn’t me this time, be sure to note that.”

”I know.” His mind races again through all the possibilities. How to approach her, how to talk without triggering her pride or rage - or assumed hidden insecurities. He had a plan, or a rough sketch of a plan, or a mere dream of an idea - he isn’t so sure anymore now that she’s in front of him. She is intimidating yet he can feel even more of the melancholy, loneliness, longing off her. Are those things worth anything on the scale against her crimes? Something in him wishes to…  _help_  her, try to understand why on Azeroth anyone would want to destroy not one but two thriving cities, because he still cannot believe it. If he could get her to open up and maybe… just maybe…

”Where are we?” he changes the subject for a respite and looks around the cellar. Thick log walls, musty, dark. There’s an old troll cage in the other end of the room, hunting equipment, some dusty cupboards and benches.

”In my cottage”, she says offhandedly. ”Eversong.”

”Ah.”

She’s becoming increasingly curious about the warm smile that keeps appearing on his handsome face. She thought him naive in some aspects at first but by now he should have learned not to keep up weird hopes of "saving her soul" or anything such paladin-like. And yet… this is not the annoying smile of pity that made her bolt. She has to admit there’s now a slight conflict in her concerning this particular wielder of Light.

At that same moment Anduin looks back at her and the damned smile is there again for a second and a half. She might almost have a shade of rose on her cheeks were she properly alive.  _What on Azeroth is this?_

”Well, since you took the trouble of figuring out the portal I might as well offer you some refreshments before I lock you into that cage. Thistle tea?” She tilts her head like a flirting young barmaid in Legerdemain Lounge and starts climbing up the old staircase. He watches her hips sway in the almost see-through nightgown and gulps.

”I … buh-  _what?”_

”You heard me, your majesty. Do you take honey with your tea?”

”Isn’t that... for rogues?”

”I like the taste.”

He scurries after her cursing how his condition makes him slower in wit and reaction than usual. And it isn’t too easy for walking in plates either. He grimaces to himself when his erection rubs against the unyielding steel protection. The designer clearly hadn’t thought of all the possible situations a soldier could be in. Or different sizes.

”Look, I’m here to discuss… truce. In a fashion. If it’s at all possible.”

”Wearing those? Really now.” She eyes him up and down and in a cozy manner starts making the tea, of all things.

”I couldn’t know if I would end up in the middle of a hostile town square or in a gladiator ring, could I?”

Her other eyebrow rises, amused. The Banshee Queen sits down on the sofa and crosses her bare legs, watching him. Her gown has dropped slightly from her other shoulder and the blush in the young man’s cheeks spreads to his neck. He stands awkwardly in the middle of the small cabin room.

”I can smell your desire, little lion - or is it bloodlust? I thought you wanted to end those things.” She licks her lips and raises a tea cup on her mouth.

”I did… I mean…  _Look_. I cannot help it, alright? Can you just ignore it and let me talk?”

”Hard to ignore something so enticing. It’s almost as if you came here to taunt me with it. How _heartless_ of you.”

”That is definitely not my intention, lady Windrunner.” He almost needs to bite his tongue not to slip out what he can detect off  _her_  - she can mock his needs all she likes but he knows if he discloses his knowledge about her more tender feelings he’d end up in that troll cage so much sooner. He has to go about this very smartly.

”I’ll listen to you if you get rid of those ridiculously pompous plates. I’m on holiday and can’t bear to see anyone who looks like a soldier.”

Anduin considers this for a moment, then decides it better for his plans to not seem hostile or defensive. He takes off his gloves and starts unclasping the shoulder plates. One by one he drops them on the floor and then realizes how this resembles her striptease in Light’s Hope’s royal tent. He guesses she is probably thinking the same thing, reclining relaxed on the sofa, watching him with a suggestive smile.

”You won’t appease me that easily even if this  _is_  a treat, your highness.”

Anduin huffs with a hint of a snort. He puts his heavy breastplate on the floor, revealing a light white linen shirt. Shalamayne is still hanging off his belt when he unbuckles it and carefully puts it by the other gear.

”Cute as that may be, I don’t think it’s _me_ who needs to reconcile with anyone, Warchief.”

”Oh  _please_ , call me by my given name, I’m not in the office at the moment. It sounds so much sweeter on those lips of yours.”

Pulling off his huge plate boots takes a while and the task gives him a moment of reflection - Anduin notices he isn’t feeling restless, lonely or in turmoil anymore. The desire is there, throbbing and powerful, but it doesn’t make him anxious now. He stops midway, such is the weight of the realization.

_Well, this is going to be a problem._

He looks at the murderous undead high elf war criminal sitting in front of him, peacefully drinking her tea. He decides truth is the best way to start even if it means exposing himself a bit further. But only this one truth.

”Sylvanas. I don’t really understand it but… I miss you.”

”I know.”

The young king finally drops his plate pantlegs on the floor. They clang loudly making his ears ring. Under the plates he has a pair of Alliance blue mageweave trousers. He unlaces the last bit of metal gear, which is, poetically, the codpiece protecting his proverbial family jewels. He cannot look at her and tries not to grin himself, failing.

”That must be awfully uncomfortable.”

”Fortunately there’s leather underneath.”

”It doesn’t change its unforgivingly small size.”

The king blushes further. ”Yes, it is terribly uncomfortable - but necessary.” He drops the item on the floor and breathes deep, knowing the cloth pants don’t hide much.

”Of course. It’s essential to protect your wonderful—”

”Can we not talk about my—”

”— _heirloom.”_

”Please.”

He takes a seat beside her. The air between their skins prickles.

”What is it, then? Can you explain it? I’ve come to a conclusion it cannot be anything to do with magic.”

”I’ve no idea what you’re on about, little lion.” She sips her tea, red eyes watching him over the rim of the cup.

”I think you know.” He reaches towards her, touches her wrist with the tips of his fingers, caressing slowly. ”I am trying to work two incompatible things here at once. We are enemies, and furthermore you have done things that are unforgivable and need to be addressed.” He feels her anger and defensiveness rise.

”But then this…” The young man slips his fingers under her wrist, to the sensitive skin. She has stopped her movements, the teacup hovers near her lips. He slides his caress along her arm, touch like a feather. Sylvanas’ emotions flutter from need to annoyance, from lust to sadness. He feels them even clearer now.

She ends the gentle moment abruptly.

”Do you mean to say there is  _love_  between us, is that it, High King? That your proposal was a genuinely romantic one, not prompted by the immeasurable and wit-reducing pleasure of your first fuck or your weird sense of responsibility?”

The fair-haired youth looks serenely at her, unfazed if a bit red-faced.

”It’s a problem, isn’t it, whether it’s this or that?”

”Not to me it isn’t”, she chuckles, puts her teacup on the table and leans towards him. Her neckline, if it can be called that, reveals half her bosom and then some.

”You can love me or lust after me, both work fine.” Her voice takes on a seductive cadence and it raises goosebumps on Anduin’s skin. He inhales sharply. Her lips ghost over his earlobe, his neck, his chin. Then she withdraws.

”But alas, you wanted to end the games, so it cannot be why you’re here.” She can hear a small whine of disappointment escaping his lips and it makes her grin. He clears his throat.

”Yes, I am here to negotiate - unofficially, as you well know - but I cannot yet define what. The situation is... unique. That is - I need you to tell me what you’re after before I can proceed.” He is utterly alone in this, having no advisors privy to his venture.

”You only had to ask, your majesty”, she speaks half an octave lower than usually, voice laced with the banshee tone and all her desire, eyes fixed on his.

”What I want is to torture you with possibilities of what we could be doing right now, on this sofa or on the floor, until you cry my name in need. I want to taste that fantastic cock of yours again, feel its girth in my mouth and soon after, inside me.” She glances at his cloth-covered erection.

”You could enter me this instant, I have recently pleasured myself thinking of you and I’m soft and slick and ready. I want you to fuck me against that wall until I don’t feel anything anymore other than your—”

 _”Stop, please”,_  he pleads, voice raw with lust. She can hear his fast heartbeat.

”No. You come here offering some feeble fantasy, not even sure what or why. At least I know full well what I’m after.” Sylvanas looks at him sitting there hunched, cheeks burning.

”I meant… politically, though it’s good to hear you aren’t completely unmoved by my influence after all.” He grins through his discomfort.

”Oh,  _look at the boy._  Will you tell me what you have dreamt during this time?”

”No. If you could answer me without playing games we could—”

”I have an offer for you, priestling. Satisfy me and I will consider answering.” Reclining on the armrest she opens her robe and lets him see her nakedness.

”We seem to be at a stalemate, Dark Lady.” Anduin closes his darkened eyes and sighs deeply.

”Your resilience is formidable. You’re almost bursting and yet you say no to me.”

”I feel I need to... for the time being. Since we’re on speaking terms because of this... affair, I’d like to use it to understand your actions.”

”There is no shortcut to understanding me. And you do realize,  _High_   _King_ , your conundrum? If you keep dreaming of somehow saving me from myself or whatever your priestly reasoning entails, you’d have to leave your throne. No way will your Alliance approve of any version of this idea of yours - and no way am I sleeping with anyone below my position.”

”Yes. As I said… stalemate. But I’m trying to find options—”

”There really aren’t any, young lion. Except to indulge ourselves like this in secret. Or forget this whole thing and continue the war as it is.” Her fingers make slow absentminded circles around her areola.

“You know I wasn’t talking about---“

Something in Anduin’s mind snaps into place.

”Are you saying I am the most eligible partner you could find?”

”In so many words, yes, at the moment. Even if I lead the Horde I don’t really fancy many of the races in it. My preferences are from my youth and though I’ve acquired some tastes over the years I mostly like human and elven people. Lor’themar feels more like a brother nowadays and so far all other Alliance leaders loathe me and even if they didn’t some are just too damn  _beastly._ I’d have a hard time not trying to feed them biscuits.”

The mental image makes Anduin chuckle before he turns serious again.

”Except me… and my father.”

”Yes. And you are young, you’d have years ahead of you.”

Anduin ponders if talking about her loneliness would tick her off, and decides to approach it sideways. He gets up and helps himself to that tea despite walking being a bit awkward with his …heirloom so eager. He feels her eyes on him and her emotions leap towards want again. It’s so much stronger than the feelings of passers-by in the Keep who just happen to like his looks and position of power. Sylvanas claims to only care about those things in him as well, but he has felt enough of her emotions to know better. And her desire is… very specific. Personal.

”I don’t really have anyone I can talk to after my father died. I’m sure I’d feel lonely in any circumstances but being a  _king_  is so… isolated. And all the other leaders are decades older than me.” He glances at Sylvanas and flashes a grin. ”No offence.”

”Not taking any. I do know very well what you are talking about, young man. I respected your father. Broken Shore was a tragic failure for all of us.”

"And the eventual victory came with a terrible price."

Anduin can feel her melancholy widen even if her expression shows no signs of it. This is the most honest piece of conversation they’ve ever had. He’s not sure he can push his luck much further - this time. Leaning on the kitchen table he tastes the tea and decides he likes it.

”So, your highness - is it the portal, the cage or my bed?”

”I have several options? My odds are better than I thought.” He puts the cup down and walks towards her. His conclusion, be it somewhat altered by his own recent needs, is that this isn’t betraying the Light or his kingdom …yet. He decides to keep trying to get through her defenses. If she won’t listen to his words maybe he could try another way of showing her…

And it happens to be through the very thing they both want immensely.

 

 


	6. Lessons in Patience

Anduin sits beside her and slides his hand on her cheek, then along her elven ears and through her hair. She might want him to be rough but he is going to show her tenderness as much as he is able. He caresses her scalp, looking at her face until she gets restless and begins to rise.

”Little lion, you are starting to get on my nerves—”

He grips a bunch of her hair in his fist and bends her neck slightly, with a gentle and steady movement, making her sit back. She allows it, liking the dominating implications. He looks her in the red flaming eyes, commanding but with that curious warm smile of his.

”Sshh. I’m not in a hurry, are you?” Being this brave takes all his willpower and he tries to hide the shaking of his hands.

Before the Banshee Queen can snap anything at him Anduin presses his lips on hers. The touch makes him whine in his throat, so much has he missed this. He kisses her gently, slowly and with such care she cannot but lean into him and purr. He feels her desire grow, but there’s also a hint of some other joy he is yet to decipher. Sylvanas slides her tongue in his mouth and her hands up his thighs. When she reaches the bulge straining under the cloth she hums happily over his moan.

Anduin takes control before she makes a move. He gently pushes her to lie on the divan and follows on top of her. The nightgown is all but falling off and he slides his hand over the skin of her stomach and her breasts. Looking thoughtful he leaves his palm cupping the other, circling her nipple with his thumb.

_”Anduin—”_

” _Sylvanas_. Do I need to tie you down so I can take my time?”

”As if you could, young man”, she smiles with teeth.

He uses Shackle Undead on her and it doesn’t miss.

”I know, a bit unfair, isn’t it?” His smile has just a wee hint of smugness.

 _”Why you little—!”_  To her amazement the spell does hold her immobile and she cannot break it. If this were a fight she’d simply wait through the short time as most creatures on Azeroth couldn’t harm her so fast even if she were trapped in place. The common priest shackles trap her but don’t prevent her from moving her arms like this…or shooting more arrows.  _The boy has grown mightier indeed._

”Don’t worry, it only lasts for 50 seconds”, the priest king says calmly, flashes that warm smile again and bends down to envelop her nipple with his hot lips. Sylvanas breathes sharply, delighted and surprised. Being shackled makes everything feel more intense, she discovers. Without her knowing Anduin feels this too and smiles against her ample bosom.

”You wanted to know - I’ve dreamt of _this”,_  he mumbles and licks around her areola. Her heightened senses spread the feeling it causes around her body.

”Ten seconds and you’re  _dead_ _”,_ she growls.

”Hardly”, he laughs and shackles her again before the spell expires.

”You know it’ll weaken after multiple uses.”

”I’m trying to teach you patience, Queen”, the young man whispers and starts descending with his lips. There’s still 30 seconds left when his tongue finds her nub and she buckles against him. He sucks it in his mouth gently, remembering her preferences minutely like the excellent scholar that he is. Sliding his warm, warm hands under her he eats her thoroughly, knowing the shackles have eased off some seconds ago but he’s still alive.

He can sense some uncharacteristic unease or uncertainty off her. He raises his head when he hears her say something.

”What is it?”

”—…them…—” She doesn’t lift her head from the pillow.

”I can’t hear you…”

_”Put them back on.”_

A sly smile spreads on the handsome face.  _Does she like the Holy or the restriction?_ He does what he’s told. She lets a sigh at the returning touch of his lips and Anduin feels her contentment elevating along with her lust.  _Curious._ He licks her meticulously, reveling in her taste and emotions, noting how her flesh swells and seeps under the care of his mouth and how she reacts to every touch. He could spend the entire evening between her thighs.

”Come, mount me already, lion”, she soon demands. The last shackle spell expires and he sits up, erection still uncomfortably caged in his trousers. While he unlaces them hands shaking with need he looks at her, splayed naked, beautiful, terrible and wanton on the sofa.

”Shouldn’t Holy hurt you?”

”Apparently yours does not. Much.”

”May I try something?”

”Only if you enter me now and stop lagging.”

”You might have to endure a moment longer, Sylvanas”, he whispers, and positioning himself above her slides his rock hard cock over her slick labia, pushing it over her clit, playing her like a violin, not entering yet. His flushed face is set in a concentrated frown. He retreats few inches and casts a heal over time spell on the Banshee Queen. When he repeats the sliding movement over her she loses it and  _wails._

 _An undead who fancies the Holy. Now I might have seen it all_ is his last coherent thought before plunging into her softness and making her cry out.

Anduin rocks his hips, sinking steadily into her with a deliberately slow pace. He is almost shaking, so good it feels. He nibbles her long earlobe and neck tenderly. His skin warms her, in the embrace their temperatures nearing the same level. The queen locks her legs around his hips and urges him on.

This new discovery of her sensitivity to Holy - and that Holy makes her sensitive - fits more than perfectly in his tentative plans. After the initial nervousness of this new and complicated situation his Discipline has now centered him again nearer his usual self-control and -confidence. Even in the middle of lust-filled copulating he can cast Penance at her without breaking the rhythm. Sylvanas gasps, and that in itself is astonishing. Anduin remembers her peculiar reaction to the same spell in the battlefield weeks ago.

The Banshee Queen’s mind is in turmoil. The boy feels  _heavenly_ _,_ his cock his skin his lips his voice, and now that he is bombarding her with the Light everything feels two or four times  _more_  - more nuanced, more sensitive... more  _alive_. She can barely admit to herself that it scares her, and that in turn makes her feel everything even deeper. His double-effective Penance is her particular favorite - it renders her susceptible like peeling a protective layer off her senses, makes her skin tingle with sparks of pleasure  _and_  it also hurts. She is no stranger to pain, having endured and suffered torture and fought wars, and it would take a lot for any form of pain to make the former Ranger General even flinch.

This specific form of pain makes her smile with bubbling mirth which she hides in his neck.

All the emotions the Dark Lady is emitting form a map in Anduin’s mind.  _Has she been hiding behind numbness all these years? Is it the undeath?_

She also seems to like pain.

”Don’t stop.”

He angles himself following her hips’ guidance and blasts her again with the pain-pleasure-spell. Moaning low she unravels, arching her back, gripping his hair. Her orgasm is velvety soft, wide, profound, the type of which she doesn’t remember experiencing in years.

Never in her current form, to be exact.

To the surprise of everyone involved the Discipline priest manages to withhold his own climax. With a newfound determination Anduin kisses her deeply on the mouth and she answers with scalding passion.

_I definitely cannot let this boy think he has control over me. A pity - I need to save him fucking me from behind for next time._

_If there is a next time._

She flips them over, the king yelping at the tug. She slides off him and he lets a disappointed and almost concerned whimper which he regrets immediately.

”Don’t worry, your highness. I’m not done with you yet.”

She makes a show in disrobing the gown off her shoulders and climbs back on top of him.

”As much as I liked your slow loving, we are going at my pace now.” Her banshee voice dominates the whole room.

Anduin only nods, face flushed and lips parted, when she sinks onto his shaft again. He lays his hands on her thighs and starts channeling a low but continuous holy energy that surges through her whole being. She almost wants to slap his hands off, so _good_ it feels and so difficult it is for her to admit a weakness. But she decides to choose pleasure over pride since the only joy in her curse has magically become even better with the devout boy. Soon her movements reach a fierce speed.

_He has become stronger. I might not have this upper hand for long._

There’s doubt on which one of them is winning or that this even is a battle. In Sylvanas’ mind it remains a battle, Anduin sees the whole mission increasingly as a patient siege to make her regain and accept her own feelings and ultimately, if he is being honest, repentance for the crimes she has committed.

 _It would be much gentler to just imprison her,_  flashes in his mind a second before he loses himself in their shared bliss.

Having these feelings for the criminal is going to make the enterprise so much more complicated.

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, writing this is becoming increasingly difficult, as I might have written myself/them/the plot into a corner. On one hand I meant - and still mean - for this to be a self-indulgent smut (I don’t think I write anything else?!) and the plot decorates it and enables situations/tension. On the other hand I do like a plot to make *some* sense (unless I decide to go all bonkers and make it a comedy) and I’m doing my best with it (so I can continue the smut, obviously. Crack ship is on crack. I just want to see them at it xD).  
> The versions of Anduin & Sylvanas in this fic obviously differ from the originals also in other aspects than just their emergent sexual interests - not intentionally, but I'm not very engulfed in other lore than what I see ingame.  
> But if the plot is going the way it is, I see only a few possible endings and they are all more or less sad. Is it cool to end porn in melancholy? Post coitum omne animal triste and all that? :D


	7. Distrust of the Highborne

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Soundtrack: Lament of the Highborne: https://youtu.be/vQTfm6mtp7Y  
> /cries

EVERSONG WOODS

High King Anduin Wrynn regains his consciousness slowly and with struggle. He finds himself lying on the floor dressed in his light clothes - inside a troll cage. The low humming and shimmering of the portal nearby tells him where he is. He groans, sitting up, feeling dizzy. The room is dark with no windows and the door closed. The young man gathers the recent events in his mind as accurately as he can. The closeness he reached with Sylvanas in their last intercourse - and here he is using the word in its archaic meaning but realizes how it would amuse _her_ to hear it differently - makes him wonder if he’s treading on too dangerous grounds after all. His inexperience might make him vulnerable, although he feels his Discipline has already taken control of his most impulsive cravings and he isn’t completely led by her allure anymore. But that’s not the riskiest part in all this, and he knows it.

She had liked everything they did - everything _he_ did, almost. When they fell asleep - or was it just him, do the undead need sleep? - he had a feeling there was something weighing on her mind but he had been too tired to ask about it. Apparently he hadn’t taken all things into account since some variable has landed him into this hunter’s prison. In hindsight it would have been better to return to Stormwind for the night.

Two red glowing eyes open in a pitch dark corner of the cellar. Anduin stands up, casting a Renew on himself.

”Was it in the tea?”

”You forget I’m a necromancer.”

Sylvanas is sitting on the floor cross-legged a few meters away, leaning to the log wall. She has donned some parts of her leather gear - pants, belt, the tunic. Her eyes flare fiercely and her dark aura is so strong it makes his ears buzz. He had thought it a headache first.

”I understood I was supposed to pick only _one_ of the options, Dark Lady.”

”I have a question for you regarding the first you chose.” Her voice sneers in that old menacing tone again.

”What is this, Sylvanas? Why am I caged?” He had hoped by now she would trust him, at least in this temporary situation where they’re playing intimate civilians. Her retreat back to suspicion might reverse all his careful steps (and the risky and the accidental ones, which had made them closer as well - or so he thought). He wills himself not to suspect _her_ planning this the whole time.

”Do you have any explanation for the _sorrow_ you felt on the brink of your climax?”

He stays quiet, gathering his bearings, trying to remember.

”I told you I have a keen nose for these things. I cannot think of anything else except that your virtuous and soft-hearted soul just revealed you have some sort of a secret agenda.”

”I don’t understand - how could sorrow—” He knows he can’t bluff her for long.

”You haven’t expressed pity, not since Arathi. I would understand pity, coming from a _properly living_ person who thinks undeath is nothing more than a curse. But even then that feeling would be so misplaced it’s highly suspicious. Three minutes _after_ \- yes, that would make sense. But not a second _before_ it. You couldn’t have been thinking of your father, not while hilt deep inside me. Even if you wanted peace at any cost you don’t strike me as a king who’d submit their kingdom to the enemy, so it cannot be any sort of sullen decision towards that either. Your thoughts somehow involved me - but why _sorrow_ when the moment definitely wasn’t sad for either of us? I’d guess you feel you are betraying something dear to you - but this wasn’t your first time, any hangover from losing your boyhood would have gone with the pleasure already. So - explain.”

She is so close to knowing the truth Anduin needs to replace it with another even if it won’t keep her away for long. Her mentioning Varian makes the memory of the late king flash in his heart - and the grief resurface from the background where it’ll probably stay for years. _”What a king must do”._ He needs to carefully reflect on that one of these days.

He feels her anger, sadness and melancholy with a dash of disappointment and - _hope._ That claws his heart even deeper. He knows she would violently object to his idea although she wasn’t complaining its effects last night…

”You are making me reveal things I would rather were solely my own knowledge”, he sighs. Her piercing eyes focus on him even sharper, long elven ears twitching.

”Deceptive plans usually are hoped to be hidden”, she snarls.

”How you convince yourself you have any right saying things like that to anyone is beyond me. It’s not a plan. It’s an… ability I have acquired fairly recently. No-one else knows about it and I don’t feel comfortable letting my enemy be the first.”

”I’m your first in much more scandalous things, High King”, she grins, amused, her rage lowering noticeably. The warm, curious smile flashes on the young man’s face, briefly softening his annoyance - he lets it convey the closeness he feels with her now, despite everything. Before he continues he starts channelling Light at the lowest possible level - not even to strengthen himself but to see how it affects her in a more tranquil situation than an intimate embrace. The voiceless chant is so subtle it doesn’t even have a glow. She might still feel it, though, and question him.

”Since our… since Arathi I have been able to feel other people’s emotions. First it was only desire and want, but later it started to refine and extend to other emotions. I don’t know if it’s because of Light, or because of you… or just something inherent in me evolving.”

”Ah, I _did_ observe something like that the first time I bedded you. I can see how that might have affected your life, with all those admirers fawning over you.” She laughs, her voice telling she finds this highly interesting but her feelings are leaking annoyance and something dark, doubt or hatred.

”Indeed.” Blush creeps on his cheeks.

”So it was pity after all? I find that offensive and arrogant, Alliance king. _An_ _uncorrupted golden boy_ like you thinking yourself above—”

”You know there’s difference between pity and empathy. I can feel your constant sadness, even when you hide it in anger, like now. I felt how your… enjoyment amplified with the Light and…” Anduin hesitates mentioning her fear. That might be a subject too volatile right now. He decides to leave it for later.

”Well… You don’t normally have that, do you? I know you think me a soft fool but even an enemy deserves understanding.” He inhales deeply. ”And some might argue I’ve recently been corrupted by… you.” He flashes a grin. The channelling of Light either goes unnoticed or she doesn’t care what he does, so he increases the level just a bit.

”You _are_ a fool.” Sylvanas rises, annoyed, not looking at him. "I hope you left good instructions to your court for your absence."

When she’s about to open the cellar door his voice stops her.

”Are you leaving? You forgot you at least owe me that answer.”

She just looks at him, seething such rage and conflict he flinches.

”I’m not... How does this change anything? So it’s fine when _you_ can detect all possible soul turbulences off other people, but when we both can, you give up?”

”My mind is my own and not to be pried by anyone, _ever again.”_ Her anger and - to Anduin’s surprise and to Sylvanas’ shame - _fear_ flow off her like hot waves of lava as she grits her teeth.

” _Sylvanas_. Even if our positions make us enemies you can be sure - _I know_ _you know this_ \- I’d never share knowledge like this nor use it as a weapon.” He truly wouldn’t want to. Not unless she continues to burn more cities with Azerite or Blight, that is.

His heartbeat doesn’t rise, he is not sweating. She knows he’s telling the truth, or at least a notion he believes is true. His face looks as irritatingly sincere as always when he continues, looking her in the eyes, radiating kindness.

”I have no way of knowing your thoughts and even less any control over them. I know there is sadness but I can only make guesses about what causes it.”

Her mind races back to every moment they have shared to catalogue what the priest now knows of her. What started as a mere playful distraction on her part is turning into a risk, a possible weakness even. She cannot lie to the boy anymore, her inscrutable face is useless in the light of this new ability of his. It does not matter that he’s not Arthas, even if he cared about her the mere thought of someone knowing her inner feelings is infuriating. Her first instinct is to just kill him, so much this breach shakes her.

And the most annoying thing is he probably can feel that too.

”There have been those who believed their cause was just - until they were far gone.” _And am I not? Not yet?_

”I understand your mistrust, my lady, believe me. You’ve endured horrors I can never comprehend and they must have scarred your soul permanently. But I’m in a very vulnerable position here - this liaison might make me lose the respect, even the trust of my people. You predominate in this. I don’t see the Horde abandoning you for toying with the opposing king.”

_They might abandon me for the other reasons._

All the while delaying her departure he channels the calming Holy energy through himself and towards her, hoping it’d either soothe her or make her more receptive to his pleading. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knows there’s that other reason as well and he knows he’ll have to justify that to himself, but for now he shoves it further away. He can feel her murderous tendencies rising. He might not have lots of options. Or time.

”Would you trade your freedom for your life, little lion?” Frustrated, she tosses the cage key at him and leaves.

Anduin picks it up, opens the lock and sits down on the floor. As long as he can feel her presence in the cabin he channels Holy, now on higher levels, not caring if she feels it.

In the room above the Banshee Queen paces around. _He is right, it doesn’t really matter if he feels me - what do I lose in it? Nothing! I don’t even have that many emotions to be spied upon. That ability explains how he could be so damn good in the sack while still being so inexperienced. Why am I so shaken by this? He’s just a kid. I don’t usually - no-one has been this close to me in ages - but it’s just sex - isn’t it? The damn fool almost talks about love - that cursed smile he has - what if I just killed him, consequences be damned?_

She halts, realizing what else has been bugging her.

_”Stop that praying and leave! You are not saving anyone!”_

Something tickles her face and she wipes it without thinking.

Her cheeks are wet.

_What… is this?_

Below her the young priest doesn’t obey and aligns himself with the Light, conducting it like a warm, friendly and fierce beacon through the whole house.

Outside some Mageroyals start to bloom.

 

 

 


	8. Banshee Rage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh well, in the light of what Blizzard is now doing to some night elf wardens I guess my plot might not be so outlandish after all xD Here goes, moar pr0n!

 

EVERSONG WOODS

Sylvanas Windrunner, Queen of the Forsaken, howls in rage and despair, turning into a Banshee with an explosion. The dark magic engulfs the whole cabin wall to wall. Her anguish borders on Sha levels as she smashes down through the floorboards into the cellar. Not the whole cabin, as it turns out, is yet under her purple darkness. Anduin Wrynn knew to expect her and the hot, radiant Holy Light almost blinds the raging undead elf. It surrounds the priest in a wide golden sphere covering the cellar area.

_”I told you to get out!”_

”And I’m telling you we’re not done yet.”

”You’ve done enough! Do you believe yourself better than Arthas?” She smashes him with a Shadow attack that rips a layer off the walls but he deflects it with an explosion of Light. She breathes in for a new spell.

”Holier than him, incapable of going astray? Your arrogance and stubbornness only show you are becoming him earlier than expected!”

Her fury cannot cover her heartbreaking, suffocating misery - or at least that’s how strong it feels to Anduin. Maybe she has been accustomed to it for so long she doesn’t regard it as much of a burden. Or maybe it _is_ that heavy, and she carries it nonetheless. The weight of it would crush the young king if he wasn’t a very skilled Discipline priest. Countering her rage-induced banshee attacks takes all his willpower and strength and only when their blows halt for a moment he realizes the tears falling down his face.

If there ever was any furniture in the cellar there isn’t any now. The place is in splinters.

Anduin pants and keeps up the flow of Light. Sylvanas stands in the middle of the room, immobile save for her trembling, unsteady like a Void portal.

”Isn’t what he did to you the most unfair condition, why are you against changing it?”

”It is what I am _now_. It cannot be changed. I’ve made my home in it. How dare you breach any lines that aren’t yours.”

”Pardon me, Dark Lady, but you don’t even believe that yourself. And I’m sure we are intimate enough to breach a few fences.” He channels Light into her direction and it’s like watching water being poured onto fire - she lets it dissipate her banshee aura and just stands there, fuming. She doesn’t raise it again. Anduin smiles.

”And if that’s not enough of a reason - aren’t we at war?”

”That we are, little lion. You’ve just found a new arena to fight it on, congratulations. Do you feel good about yourself now?”

”Just like you tempted me into pleasures I hadn’t thought possible couldn’t I tempt you towards the Light?”

 _”It’s not about persuasion or choice, you virtue-filled bucket of eels!_ Wanted it or not this is who I remain!”

”We don’t know that with complete certainty. No-one has ever tried it on the undead with the Light - the monstrous purges in the Plaguelands don’t count. I mean _really_ tried, with patience and study.”

”Can you hear yourself? You truly believe—”

”Sylvanas.” His voice is soft and full of compassion. ”Aren’t you feeling everything _differently_ compared to some days ago? Isn’t that proof enough something might change?”

She grits her teeth like a beast about to attack and with a movement too fast to be dodged smashes the young man on the wall by his throat.

”You, _High King of Empathy,_ is this what you want me to go through - _again?_ Limitless, endless suffering in the hands of some _crusader_ who thinks he knows better? And how, pray, does this have _anything_ to do with the problem of our war?”

He can’t speak but as a sign of yet enduring sense of humour he blasts Penance at her. It makes her grin through the terribly, fearfully _living_ tears that have started to fall.

”Now _that_ \- _there_ you are right. If you mean to make me feel everything as skinless as a Ragnaros’ victim I might as well take all the possible pleasure I can."

She lets him drop from the wall. He clutches his neck for a while, coughing. Sylvanas radiates such levels of rage it’s a wonder he still breathes. She opens her belt with angry movements and drops it on the floor. Anduin’s eyes follow her hands, then rise to her face, baffled.

”I’m… sorry.”

”This was your plan all along? To make me vulnerable and then try to defeat—”

”I couldn’t have any idea about your inclinations towards the Holy. I just sort of… figured it out yesterday.”

”Before or after fornicating with me?” Her tunic flies to the corner and her fingers move into the laces of her trousers.

”In… the… middle of it, actually.”

”Well, let’s see what miraculous discoveries you make this time, holy boy.”

”…Are you serious?”

”Well, you can feel _this_ , can’t you? Unless you want me to kill you or some other less deserving beings nearby, then yes.”

Anduin straightens his back and leans onto what’s left of the wall, watching her. Their dynamic worries him, yet sometimes they fit together like puzzle pieces - _literally._ In other circumstances his semi-accidental marriage proposal would have made sense on so many levels. He could be the calming beacon to her; her complexity could spur him on like nothing else. It’s unfortunate one of them has to be removed, somehow, from the equation of the whole of Azeroth.

_At least for some time. Some decades probably. It’s not too long, all things considered._

Sylvanas dips her hand inside his pants, eyes fixed on his. The angry lust she is emitting and her aggressive yet nimble fingers cause him to stand stiff at attention in four seconds. He draws in breath, not even surprised anymore of his stamina when with her.

_Also this thing._

Naked, she leans on him, hand gripping his shaft, lips near his. Her desire, anger, despair wash over him. She pushes his pants down.

”Now, my lion, you are going to fuck me against that wall like you owe me. And don’t you _dare_ be gentle.”

”You should know I don’t want you to feel anguish. I just can’t help it if it’s part of… being alive.”

”I’m sure you will do your very best, then, to make me forget the pain of _living.”_ The last word is said with such poison he flinches. _Well then, if it will help her to cope…_ Anduin almost chuckles at his automatic compassionate thought - he knows half of his motivation has nothing to do with noble altruism. But the half that does will keep him sane after this is over, eventually.

Tapping to his Discipline he gently - he dares! - pushes her backwards until she hits the wall. He lets the Light course through his body and spirit like a background hymn in a temple. A faint glow surrounds the young priest. Sylvanas watches him, studies his features and expressions, looking for weaknesses and strengths. The boy has matured and shouldered the burden of leadership in such a short time. In another life she would have probably loved him.

His hand reaches for her but then stops, hovering near her neck. He doesn’t know what to do if being gentle is forbidden. Her emotions are nearly making him cry and all he would want to do is to soothe her, make the pain go away.

”Would you like some help getting angry at me? It can’t be too difficult, knowing I’ve just killed hundreds of your subjects and allies and almost succeeded in killing you. Where do you draw all that benevolence that allows you to forget such deeds?”

”I haven’t forgotten them, Dark Lady, fear not. I’m just trying to see an even bigger picture than the two factions and some other way than violence.”

Impatient in her distress she slides down the wall, dropping to her knees.

”Your majesty, I’m about to say such vulgarities you’d better just put a gag on me before I do.” Her voice bypasses his concentration and goes down his spine like electricity. The young king leans his palms against the wall above her head and looks down, his erection almost at her lips. 

”Punish me. I insist.”

The thought of her in an inquisitor’s rack flashes in his mind but he dismisses it while complying and pushing his member in her mouth. She hums until it reaches the back of her throat. Anduin tries to maintain the channelling while almost on the verge of moaning. He has to close his eyes, the sight of her swallowing him is too much. She purposefully leans on the wall making him trap her between the wall and his cock. When he pulls all but completely out and then slides back in she sucks on it, loving the suffocating girth, the hotness of his skin against her cold lips. Her nipples stand erect and she’s dripping already. A whine escapes his mouth. _He feels that. Good._

He quickens his pace in and out of her throat, baffled and painfully aroused by her enjoyment of this torturous position. He can feel her rage morphing into pleasure bit by bit with every thrust. Was she serious about wishing punishment or is she just playing with his principles as usual? It might have been both, partly subconscious. _And while tied on the rack she can merely receive and cannot—_

”Gaahh— wait, wait, stop..!” He pulls out panting and calms himself with a spell. Even if he knows absolute power over people might be tempting even to the most devout person at some point in their life he sure as Helheim is not going to let himself climax to a corrupted fantasy like that.

”Little lion, you don’t have to hold yourself back, we know you’re capable of —”

”It’s not that. Give me a moment…”

Sylvanas slowly rises and licks over his taut stomach, over his left nipple and ends up biting him in the neck, undressing him of his shirt the same time. His agonizing self-restraint makes her want him more, want to feel him come apart in her. She turns around facing the wall and pushes her buttocks against him.

”Shame? Goodness, I would _love_ to know your thoughts, priest.”

”No, you wouldn’t”, he mutters and lets her guide him inside her. His warm hands slide over the curve of her hips. He takes a good grip and plunges all the way in. The Banshee Queen leans her palms, breasts and cheek on the wall and moans.

”Gods, _yes!”_

The pleasure is overwhelming for both of them - especially when each can feel the other's emotions. Gritting his teeth Anduin forces himself not to forget the channelling and leads it through his hands on her body.

”Stop that!”

”Are you sure?” He starts thrusting into her, slowly at first but then remembering her ultimatum. Raising the level of the spell the same time with his pace he nears some sort of a Discipline priest trance between carnal and spiritual. He can feel she’s near euphoric in the midst of her lingering rage and anguish. How did she phrase it yesterday? _”I want you to fuck me against that wall until I don’t feel anything anymore?”_ He speeds up, gripping her hips, sliding his other hand up her spine and on her neck. He doesn't feel the need to strangle her anymore but he imitates it for her benefit.

”Ahh - damn you - yes - no!”

”Which - is it - Sylvanas? Light - or - darkness?” His pace is beastly, furious, just like she wanted and not like he ever knew he would find himself doing. Anduin changes the spell to a continuous barrage of Penance and that makes her claw the splintered logs on the wall and howl as a transcendental orgasm surges through her. The priest king moans, his concentration failing. His cock pumps his royal seed inside her with a force that almost makes his legs give out. His vision goes white for a moment.

They fall more or less coordinated on the floor and just lie there side by side. Her anguish has calmed.

”I might tolerate life for a while with that. A day or two.”

”Is that a proposal, Warchief?”

The whole ordeal is so absurd that they burst into endorphin induced laughter simultaneously.

”So how did you know I was going to be at the Chapel?”

”You talk in your sleep, little lion.” Her mocking nickname for him has started to sound more like an endearment.

”...oh.”

”You should ward your bed.”

Anduin turns his head towards her. Her eyes are already on him. They can’t say it, probably never could, but they both feel it at this moment. She shifts her gaze first.

”Well, this certainly cannot work.”

”I agree. Too... seriously too complicated.”

 

”...Up for some more, your majesty?”

 

 


	9. A Twisting Turn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is where my AU is definitely veering from canon onto its own special path and doesn’t take into account anything starting from Patch 8.1. 
> 
> Drama interlude, no smut this time.

 

ORGRIMMAR, HORDE TERRITORY

”The Warchief has been absent for several days this week. Is there a way to send her a direct message other than tracking her down personally?”

”You can discuss all matters of war with me, Halforcen”, Nathanos Blightcaller sighs, annoyed. This is becoming a nuisance - he has been happy to serve his Lady even in situations where they have disagreed, but to be left without orders for days has stretched his improvisation too thin.

”I will pass on any message when I see her.”

Sylvanas has been spending time in some remote location in her homeland when she should be leading the Forsaken and the Horde in Zandalar and Kul Tiras! For all the love Nathanos had for her in his lifetime he’s been loyal to a breaking point - but then again, nothing really feels like anything once you’re dead. There are memories of feelings, and some manage to live pretending they still linger. Most of the Forsaken are navigating their un-life by principles decided while still alive, orders given from on high or just by sheer throwing of a dice. The luckiest of them sometimes feel something when immersed in excess and debauchery. Most are more or less depressed all the time, gray in spirit like the sky over Lordaeron. The feelings that are left in them are usually either endless spiritual hunger - or in some cases physical hunger, never satisfied no matter how much they eat - or hatred, sadness or varying shades of need for revenge.

Usually, even if they get their revenge, that doesn’t really feel like anything.

The Champion of the Banshee Queen decides it’s time to once again face her and brave her probable rage. He orders two of her Dark Rangers to accompany him and they set for the portals to visit the _holiday retreat_ she has now unwisely decided to dwell in.

 

***

 

EVERSONG WOODS

Sylvanas Windrunner sits frozen in place inside the cabin. She hasn’t moved since Anduin Wrynn gathered his gear and left through the portal. She might remember him hinting at returning and wishing for a truce if her head and her whole being weren’t now filled with such torment. She’s not sure if being raised as a Banshee was more agonizing than this; yet she remembers the emptiness of the final death still being worse - it’s probably the only reason she hasn’t taken her life after the priest left.

If she could concentrate on thinking, she’d find dry amusement in this paradox. An enemy king, that little boy barely of age, was able to both wake the pain of living emotions in her and then soothe them without making her retreat back into the numbness of undeath. She had thought everything would cool down and return to her unfortunate but manageable status quo once the young man was far enough. To her horror the vulnerability stayed and left her mind helpless against …the memories.

Not those memories that she had already almost come to terms with, not really ever forgiven or forgotten but stored in an icy cave in the back of her mind. She isn’t experiencing the loss of her home, her death, her undeath resurrection, her hatred for Arthas. She is now terrifyingly sensitive to the dying screams of the Night Elves when they burned in their home tree. The countless lives she took there, and elsewhere, without flinching, sometimes mocking the victims before they died. Every death she had caused in Gilneas, Arathi and afterwards is now biting her soul and conscience like several flights of dragons. The transformation of Nathanos, her scheming towards her few remaining relatives, even her unavoidable abandoning of Varian at the Broken Shore crush her with guilt. 

_I was trying to protect my people, the few that still exist. But who are my people? They wouldn't have been mine if I'd remained alive and a ranger of Quel'Thalas. Should we even exist at all? What does it matter? I have become the same as him - no, worse than him. I should know how precious life is. I should have remembered._

She cannot stop the flood, the gates have been opened - or smashed in.

 

***

 

STORMWIND KEEP, ALLIANCE TERRITORY

King Anduin Wrynn marches towards the war council room hoping to find Prophet Velen alone. He has so much to think on, to plan, to understand and to decide. He is concerned of the effect the Dark Lady has had on him but the same time he is aware one cannot go to war without the risk of getting hurt; if he's to immerse himself in her feelings and even meddle with them like he - at first accidentally - did, of course they will affect him too. And the consequences of his meddling. And everything else that she represents and brings with her in their now undeniably carnal albeit probably brief relationship.

_Maybe it's time to start those Shadow studies._

He cannot ignore his own feelings for her either, but he tries not to be concerned about them yet; that can of eels is for a later time.

Throughout the short journey from his quarters to the council room he feels even more bombarded by emotions than before: pride, admiration, lust, fear, uncertainty, worry. And also love, in the pure form some people feel towards their country, king and faction. He smiles by himself.

"Anduin. Thank the Light you're back. Your note got us worried."

"And here I thought I was so thorough in my wording. I might need another lesson in rhetoric." The young king smiles to the Prophet.

"Did your excursion help clear your thoughts? You know you can always discuss them with me."

"I know, thank you, dear teacher. I needed to do this alone." To his annoyance a light blush starts creeping on his cheeks. _Can't I have an hour without thinking about her - or ...us?_

Apparently he can't. Flashbacks of them in her bed later in the night interrupt his train of thought. She had allowed him to be gentle that time provided the flow of Light was uninterrupted. One could almost suspect it an addiction like with the Arcane or the Sunwell. Undead or not she also is a high elf underneath.

"But now I have more questions, some of which I think you can answer."

The old draenei smiles gently, nodding him to continue.

"The Vindicaar, where is it now?"

"I have foreseen this. But I didn't think it would happen anymore."

"What have you seen, Prophet?" He tries to hide his nervousness, though he knows Velen is the last to judge anyone for their hard choices and certainly not for their probable but not certain future. He wonders if the draenei elder has seen something about Sylvanas and him.

"It is not very clear. You in the Vindicaar and with the Army of the Light. There was also something about the naaru, but I don't know what it could be, Xe’ra being dead now. I saw the vision years ago and when the Legion struck here I let myself forget it, assuming most of us would board the vessel. But you never did, you had more to do here."

"You have told me about Xe’ra and what happened with Illidan. She tried to force him into something he didn't want to be?" A tiny pang of guilt hits Anduin in the gut. _Was I not doing exactly the same thing to Sylvanas?_

"Yes. We all have our burdens and painful choices. Even if it breaks my heart knowing all that's left of the prime naaru are a few shards in the Crucible, I still say Illidan had his right of choice. It was his life and he had carved it through suffering. Although it would have been interesting to see what he would have become, without the demonic."

"If a naaru has the power to cleanse the demonic from a person... What else can they do? And what exactly is this Crucible?"

"It would be best if you saw it yourself, don't you think?"

"I was hoping you'd say so, Prophet." The young man smiles.

"I will arrange it with Turalyon. He wanted to keep the Vindicaar a hidden sanctuary for our new allies and I've honored his wishes. He's also the best source of knowledge when it comes to Lightforged humans."

A calm yet exhilarating feeling of foreboding descends upon the king.

"You think that could be my path?"

"It is one of the strongest possible futures for you, yes. But it always remains your own choice, as much as life and circumstances allow. And it isn’t an easy one to achieve even if I’ve seen its possibility.”

Anduin nods. He doesn’t know much about Turalyon’s path except that it took lifetimes for him to ascend to the level of power and near immortality he has now. Apparently some time warping in the Twisting Nether during their war path against the Legion made it possible.

”Thank you, Velen. I need to think about this. I will see you tomorrow in the scheduled council meeting.”

He needs to think about all this - and he needs to return to Sylvanas, for he has a gut feeling he should check on her. And he did kind of promise, although not this soon.

 

***

 

EVERSONG WOODS

_”My Lady, may I enter?”_

The Blightcaller has been trying to get an answer or a permission of entrance for a while. His voice carries a tone of annoyance he usually saves for the adventurers that come asking for work. He is starting to worry in that dull, non-feeling way he is able. Something must have changed drastically, otherwise she wouldn’t just leave in the middle of an important campaign like this.

”Would you like us to try going in?” asks Cyndia. The other Dark Ranger, Kalira, nods.

”Not unless you want to get killed. The Warchief has put these wards up herself.”

Cyndia peeks into the cabin through a dim window.

”My Lord, I can see her! There, in the dark corner. But she’s not moving.” Nathanos looks in.

”I have known she has been… _not herself_ for some time, but this is truly alarming.” They try to call her but dare not touch the glass, as they would cross the ward field then.

Below them High King Anduin Wrynn enters the cellar through the secret portal, again without consulting or informing anyone in his court. A premonition made him wear a bit more sturdy gear than mere priest’s robes but he didn’t want to don the whole set of heavy royal plates either: he’s dressed in a mixture of both. Plate chest and legs but without the pauldrons, the rest are pieces of light leather travelling gear. As he steps in he is immediately overwhelmed by her dark agony, so much so that he has to lean on the wall for a spell to physically balance himself. Concerned, he hurries up the stairs.

Sylvanas is sitting in a corner, hunched, eyes dim and unseeing. Anduin kneels in front of her, lays his hands on her shoulders and starts a hymn so powerful it would make the Plaguelands bloom. Or at least one of the farms in there. A golden sheen surrounds them both. Her body jerks lightly and a lament escapes her throat.

Such is his concentration that he only jolts a bit but doesn’t break the channelling when he hears the horrible yelling outside. He remembered her talking about the strong warding around the house - no exceptions but herself. He turns to look in the direction of the ruckus and almost gives in to an urge to smile.

_”Rangers, fire!”_

Nathanos can barely keep his raging hatred in check. His hasty order comes before his best judgment but luckily for the Dark Rangers the arrows only bounce off or break on the invisible barrier around the cabin. _What on Azeroth is that despicable Alliance brat doing to her and how is he even able to be there?_ For a moment the Champion is almost as confused as when he woke up to undeath. Anduin continues the healing and gently picks Sylvanas up, carrying her like a sleeping child. To Nathanos’ everlasting surprise she wraps her arms weakly around the young king’s neck. It looks intimate and trusting.

 _”You won’t go far, human! You’ll regret this the rest of your life, or what’s left of it once I track you down!”_ His eyes smoulder. 

The sight of the priest holding the Dark Lady inside a glowing Holy aura is nearly frightening, like a cathedral glass painting. The boy doesn’t show aggression or spite at all when he turns towards the rangers in the window. He looks serene, sincere, almost apologetic. His clear voice reaches easily through the walls.

_”We could end the war now, you know.”_

When he turns away to leave through the doorway to the cellar Sylvanas stirs in his embrace and opens her eyes, weary. Looking over Anduin’s shoulder she sees her Champion, her old loyal companion on the other side of the dusty glass. It might as well be in another dimension. Or in another time.

_”I will find you, Alliance scum, mark my words!”_

His queen looks him in the eyes and shakes her head.

 

 

 


	10. Stormwind Afternoon

STORMWIND KEEP, ROYAL QUARTERS

Sylvanas Windrunner, Warchief of the Horde wakes up confused in an enemy’s comfortable bed.

_What is this? I don’t sleep!_

She’s alone. There’s a note on the other pillow - like reserving a spot - written in Anduin’s impeccable penmanship. The message is in Common, which has been their language all this time even if the little king knows basic Orcish and Thalassian.

_I trust you don’t run off while I attend a council meeting. I will return soon, we need to talk. No-one but me will enter these rooms. - A._

When they came through the portal into the closet in the Keep Anduin held her the whole journey. As he had ordered, the closest guards were stationed a few corners further. He had carried her up to his royal chambers, all the while healing and channelling Light. Her agony subsided steadily if slowly - but the attack had been so much stronger than the one before.

 _Did I start a chain reaction that cannot be controlled? I need to see this through,_ he had thought.

Sylvanas Windrunner lying on the king’s bed in Stormwind Keep was a wild and intimidating sight even if she looked only a ghost of her normal self, exhausted and shaken. For all his latest bravery king Anduin Wrynn still recognized it. He sat near, on the edge of the bed seething Holy at her like a walking Guard Tower.

”Do you need anything else?”

”No. Just this. Don’t stop yet.”

Apparently falling asleep is a thing that can happen to her now. But she _was_ fatigued, down to the last shred of her spirit. And she will face that pain again.

_No less than what I deserve._

 

***

 

The war council meeting is at an end. New footholds in Zandalar territories and the strengthening of ties with the Kul Tirans are good news. They’ve sketched messages to Jaina and Genn to be delivered to them in Boralus. When the people disperse and only Velen, spymaster Shaw’s trusted in his absence, Tony Romano, and the elves are present, Anduin speaks anew.

”Wait, stay a moment. I didn’t want to bring this up in front of everyone, but there’s one thing I need to inform you of.” The weight in his voice makes everyone stop and look at his face.

”What is it, Anduin? You sound... different”, Tyrande notes.

”I cannot go into details, not yet, but I’ve come by some... information that would, at best, end this faction crisis before it turns every zone a warfront.”

”Any news less than the death of that banshee isn’t going to satisfy me”, spits the night elf queen.

”Dethroning surely would suffice?” Anduin has the patience of an old elekk after dealing with the mentioned banshee these few weeks.

”There would need to be a trial and the verdict would in all certainty be death. Is this what you’ve learned? That she is to be deposed? That would be good news indeed.”

”I will tell you more when I know more, Malfurion. We’ve known about the tensions inside Horde leadership for some time now. But you should alert all your contacts for possible negotiations. Also I'm going to invite Taelia Fordragon to stay here and I need other people beside myself to accompany and guide her.”

”Why does this sound like you are planning on being absent, your highness?”

”We all have much to do these days, don’t we, Lord Romano?”

_”Are you done? You have much to do in your bedroom, little lion.”_

Anduin’s cheeks flush and he needs to clear his throat. _Please, not in a situation like this!_

”Thank you, that was all the news I had, for now.”

”That’s not much. It could be just a rumour, then?”

_”I’m feeling an urge to run off, your majesty… In my current state of undress it would do no good for your reputation.”_

”That’s always... possible. Now, I need to retire… I have letters to write. Good day, everyone.” He hurries out of the room before anyone has a chance to ask more.

Marching through the hall towards his study - which is the foremost part of his quarters, the bedroom being on the back - he passes two cleaning ladies and nods them like his custom is, even if he’s in a hurry or doesn’t know them by name. Most people here he does. He tries to ignore the wave of mild desire they emit. The women turn to look after him.

”Aww look at him go, he’s such a sweetheart. Poor thing has so much on his plate. I wouldn’t mind rubbing his shoulders for comfort if you catch my meaning.”

”Tell me about it, he has become _so manly_ this last year I’m beginning to regret marrying my man Kinby.”

”Ooh Edna, you’re terrible! Like you had any chance!”

”A lady can dream, can’t she? Remember when he was just a boy? I feel like it was only yesterday. And now… those arms… and his blue eyes… and there’s something in him that - ohh, I don’t know. But he’s still so _nice_ even if he’s the king now!”

”That he is, bless ’im.” They both sigh and giggle and continue their work.

Anduin reaches his bedroom after carefully locking the front door to his rooms. Sylvanas is lying on the bed, naked as threatened, leaning on her arm like a model for a painter.

”There’s another _first_ I aim to take from you, Wrynn”, she smirks, looking comfortable in the huge four-poster bed.

”And what’s that? You sound better already”, he smiles, eyes darkening. He tries not to look at her breasts and fails.

”Do I _feel_ better?” Her voice carries a bitter undertone sprinkled with grief and remorse. There’s no hiding it from the boy and while her pride isn’t something she’d let go before the final death arrives she has to be pragmatic. There’s _hope_ now, even if it’s a fleeting, uncertain mirage yet. That’s still more than she had two months ago.

”You feel less fragile, at least.” He takes off the pauldrons and the breastplate. This affair has taught him self-reliance in dressing and undressing a whole battle gear. Nowadays he forgets to ask his manservant in the evenings and he hasn’t complained. The Banshee Queen ignores the assessment.

”Now, I’ve put wards around the bed. Later I will show you how to ward the whole room.”

”I’m hardly that versed in my Shadow studies.”

”Doesn’t matter, it’s an Arcane spell.” They share a dry smirk.

”So, did you hear the whole meeting? I forgot to ward _myself.”_

”Only what _you_ said, your majesty. You know it doesn’t really matter now what I hear. In this condition I’m as useless a Warchief as a time travelling dead orc. But you seem to have lots of plans concerning this… situation. And not all of them conjured up today.”

”No. You’ve been on my mind for some time, Sylvanas. You know I can’t keep you hidden here for long.”

They haven’t talked about the future. It’s too uncertain, too messy with so many variables it’s impossible to say anything. There’s a wordless agreement between them however, and they both seem to dance around it carefully.

Despite her seemingly relaxed position he feels her despair bubbling underneath like hot lava. He has taken off his boots and plate legs and sits on the edge of the bed, like yesterday, in his cloth trousers and loose linen shirt, looking now as young as he really is. He starts healing her without touching, directs the channelling over her like rain or wind. She sighs deeply in relief and pleasure.

”Talk later?”

”Yes…” Anduin slides his hands gently and firmly over her legs and thighs, like massaging with the Holy Light. He can feel how each inch lessens her agony a tiny portion. This role suits him more than well, he enjoys enormously being able to help and see the results of his work. The side-effects, like saving Azeroth from a devastating faction war or having mind-blowing sex, are a welcome bonus - otherwise they would have to be dealt with separately. Or in the case of sex, ignored graciously until matrimony - or so he had thought. When his thumbs brush her mound in passing she jolts and moans. Smiling, he continues across her hips and belly, leaning over her on the bed, looking at her haunting beauty. He now sees her in a light of possibilities and in a light of what she has made him understand and feel, not in terms of undeath or living. She keeps her eyes closed but her lips are parted and she moans again when he slides over her full breasts. Her rising pleasure spreads to the young priest. Reaching her head he caresses her long ears and places a tender kiss on her lower lip.

”What was the _first_ you were talking about?”

”Having you in the Stormwind’s royal bed, of course.”

_That does sound rather daring … and formally binding._

"I thought you already did, several times", he muses, sliding his warm fingers along her earlobe. A wide grin spreads on the elven face. Her nimble hands are in his pants before he has time to react. He has been ready and hard since her ankles.

”So I did. Now, _have_ _me_ and then we’ll talk.”

”And here I was hoping you’d let me heal you a moment longer.”

”Oh, don’t you play innocent now, little lion. You know this is part of my medicine”, she squeezes his erection and his breath catches. He moves lower, making her lose her grip, and nuzzles between her thighs before sitting up.

”I thought _this_ was your medicine.” He throws a Penance at her and grins. It’s like he just started a pillow fight.

”Why you little — oh gods _yes_ —” He’s quicker this time, diving his head down, sucking her clitoris in his mouth and sliding his tongue over it. She feels a careful scrape of teeth and loves it. His palms caress over the back of her thighs around his head and, having his way, heals her the same time. _Is she more sensitive than before? How’s that even possible?_ He can sense she would climax in just a few licks. Feeling brave and playful Anduin stops and raises his head.

”Did I tell you I saw your champion yesterday? He didn’t look too happy.”

”You better shackle me, otherwise you’ll be collecting your limbs from the yard.”

”Or you could just say you love it”, he chuckles low and locks her in place with the desired spell. ”You’re not feeling anxious now, are you?”

She doesn’t need to answer him. He can play her like a virtuoso a musical instrument by now. Even denied or postponed satisfaction prevents her from suffering. _Swap a torture with another, is it? I can live with that._

”Nathanos will not come after you. He has specific orders in case of my absence… or demise.”

”He seemed like a person who would hunt me for the rest of my life.”

”That he is. But he obeys me.” Yearning release and control she fills his yet devout mind with the visions of his fantasies, flavouring them with her arousal, amplifying it like a shockwave. The overloaded emotion and the attack of the multiple elves are too much for Anduin - he’s basically monogamous, after all.

"Fine, _fine_ , I will obey too, just... tone that down... a bit." _Shouldn't have told her about that dream._

”Why on Azeroth would I do that? The effect on you is _delicious_ , little lion, and your stamina isn’t found wanting.”

He moves above her once the shackle spell dissipates and slowly, slowly enters her, eyes on her eyes.

”My limit might be at the fourth copy of you”, he sighs once sheathed in. That makes Sylvanas laugh like a young elf.

”Know that I will want to test that, young man.”

”You do already, my lady.” There it is again, the new honorific for her, accidental or not. Isn’t she Dark anymore? And in what sense is she _his?_

The Banshee Queen is sure she’ll never tire of the feel of his girth and length, stretching her, filling and warming her and making her gasp for air she doesn’t need. The Light stings her skin all over, burning and healing. It expands inside her, terrifying but calming but terrifying again. She isn’t yet too weak to appreciate a challenge. And she feels him, her royal lover, his desire and compassion and caring and ...she is not going to use _that_ word. But as the Light expands in her so does her climax, and soaring on it she isn’t sure which is which anymore.

Anduin watches and feels her come undone and lets go, speeding his slow thrusts only slightly. His eyes close. When she entwines her arms around his neck and whispers his name still engulfed in the mixture of pleasure, emotions and Holy Light, he cries in the crook of her neck and joins her in the bliss. His gorgeous member feels even thicker while it shoots his warm seed inside her.

Afterwards they lie side by side, Anduin emitting a low, steady stream of Light to keep her balanced.

"You asked what I wanted with the war." Her solemn voice makes him sharpen his senses. He nods although her eyes are not on him.

"I've always fought for my people. Fiercely. In undeath the other abandoned and lost ones became my people. I have tried to ensure our existence and safety, with harsh measures most of the time. But survival is like that - kill or be killed, especially among the Horde. I... had a motive, and morals, in the beginning. But you see, little living human prince, that is what undeath does to a being. Everything humane just... vanishes, eventually. Gets gray, loses its taste, fades. One day you don't _feel_ the reason for your principles anymore. Sure, you might keep them for the sake of having something to cling to, but it's not the same."

Tears are running down Anduin's temples, tickling his ears. In this moment Sylvanas definitely _feels_ someting. And it's crushing his sympathetic, big heart.

"What you have done now with the Light - whatever it is - well, you know how it feels. It seems I am feeling everything from the lost years, all at once.”

"Yes, I felt it back there. Truthfully, I cannot understand how you could withstand it."

"Clearly I couldn't." It’s a statement almost void of any emotion.

”But you _did_ , see? At least long enough."

”Why do you insist on my survival - isn’t a punishment for my crimes what you wanted?”

”Yes. And repentance. These two seem to have come hand in hand for you now. But death isn’t a solution for anything.”

”Usually it is. Who knows, the pain might not even kill me. I could turn into a raving ghoul or arrive at some other form of madness. I feel it’s close. Wouldn’t it be sweet justice, High King? You parading the mindless Warchief through Stormwind on a leash?”

"You know that’s not really my style. And I feel partly responsible for this change in you.”

"I might have ended up in a torment similar to this with just undeath, eventually. Many have." She glances at the young man, eyes playful despite the gravity of their discussion. "I leave you responsible for my carnal well-being."

He reaches out his hand and caresses her side. It feels cool to the touch. He looks beautiful lying there naked, young and strong, strands of honey-blond hair sticking to his forehead. She averts her gaze.

”Must you be so sentimental?”

”You’ll find I can be harsh too. I think I need to, if we are to resolve this whole faction… mess. I assume you agree.”

"I cannot return to the Horde being like this. I might not even be fit to be the Queen to the Forsaken anymore, as forsaken as I am now.” She truly, _truly_ loathes being dependent on someone like this. 

Anduin gets up and puts on his pants.

”We should close the portal. Tell me how.”

”How will you do this?”

”You will have to trust me, Sylvanas. My plan might take some time.” 

”I don’t really have a choice, now do I?”

 

 

 


	11. Restricted Interactions

 

STORMWIND CITY

A truce between the two factions was fairly easy to achieve with Warchief Saurfang. There were some difficulties drawing new territory contracts of areas previously held by the Forsaken, but them being a minority in the Horde even their new regent leader couldn’t but swallow his hatred and pride in the end. The undead aren’t exactly liked these days, if they ever have been.

Festivities have been going on for two days. Stormwind shops have decorative flags above their doors, the mages shoot fireworks every hour and someone dragged the fire festival poles out. There was an impromptu parade of costumed citizens yesterday and people on the street are still mildly more tipsy than on an average day. The dwarves are as drunk as they usually are.

"You will be remembered as the king who captured the Banshee Queen, my boy. Though I still think it was foolhardy and careless, going through that portal alone. What if she had kidnapped or beaten you and no-one would have known your whereabouts?"

"King Greymane, leave it be. What's done is done. Our High King has grown in strength of the Light, even more than I had realized. I have foreseen fragments of this path and I’m happy it is happening.”

The older men beam at Anduin who is doing his best not to look embarrassed. He is just back from giving a short speech to the townsfolk, this time reminding them that there were still some threats needing to be taken care of, like the Azerite problem. His victory speech two days ago had been a curt one as well. The public was given as little details as possible, for now.

He's feeling uncomfortable about twisting the truth, but less than what he thought he would be. _Is it her influence? Or is this bound to happen to anyone in politics eventually...?_ His honor and conscience had to move aside, but it wasn't _that_ far from what actually happened. Quite close, really, just omitting certain ...activities, ways of communicating and words exchanged between the High King of the Alliance and Sylvanas Windrunner, former Warchief of the Horde, his secret lover, now his prisoner.

He was forced to admit he went alone to Quel'Thalas - he couldn't lie to anyone that he had help, since the only person who really knew - or could have guessed - about his trip was the portal trainer, and city soldiers gossip like the hozen. Soon they would have realized none of _them_ were in the mysterious helping army.

"I had studied her skills and weaknesses those few times we met in the battlefield. I had a fairly comprehensive picture of them when I went to meet her. And truthfully, I think the timing was just right. We discussed---"

"That is what I can't swallow at all. How is she now _discussing_ with you all calm and docile? Why wouldn't she do it earlier, then, if this unfathomable turn was bound to happen? First burn two cities and wound my husband, then _how about tea and biscuits?"_

Anduin almost chokes on the tea remark and covers it with a cough. Tyrande's flaming anger isn't something he wishes to incite.

"I told you, we did fight first. Quite equally, as it turned out."

"She's getting old."

"Happens to us all eventually, Lord Admiral", prophet Velen smiles.

"You should have killed her then, if you saw an opportunity. Those abominations should be eradicated from Azeroth!"

"High Priestess, you sound like my father... years ago. I am not him and I don't aim to become any version of him. And even _he_ changed in his last years and became more tolerant towards other races. Everyone has the right to exist, even the undead, and I want to find a solution for a long term peace, not just a reason for the next conflict."

"You are being unbelievably softhearted, Anduin. You know her crimes. Even if we aim for peace her trial will have to happen."

”How can you be so lenient? Have you forgotten how she tried to kill you with the blight! I would go so far as to demand my sister’s trial sooner than usual. If she has time to plan an escape or any other trick —”

"Of course, Jaina, Alleria. All I'm trying to say is I don't want us doing the same mistakes that were done with Illidan, for example. Nobody is thoroughly evil or good, everyone has their reasoning and motives. And this isn’t about revenge, as much as people would like it - it’s about justice. She will be treated fairly and _kept safe_ until the trial. That is the Alliance way, our honor and duty." Something in him twinges.

"I will not listen to this irreverence any longer! Our home is in ashes and you --" The night elf leader looks ready to leave - yet again. Her seething hatred is giving the young king a headache and Genn isn't much calmer, though he hides it better. Anduin feels all of their emotions nonetheless. He fears he has let them down, his allies, friends and subjects.

"I’m sad to disappoint, but there are so many aspects in this, pulling me in different directions. I am doing what I think is best for the whole of Azeroth. I hope your new city construction in Ashenvale is getting on well. And Gilneas is almost restored, I hear?" He turns back to the grey human-shaped worgen.

"Yes. But there are still skirmishes in Arathi Highlands, not to mention Kul Tiras and the troll islands."

"I am starting to believe some people just _want_ to fight constantly. What is a soldier to do, if it is their vocation?" The rhetorical question hangs in the air before he changes the subject and nods to Turalyon’s mate, the leader of the Void elves. "I am going to be visiting the Vindicaar again next week. I'm sorry to have burdened you all with my constant absence. How is Taelia, by the way, has she adjusted well into our court?"

The night elf couple glance meaningfully at each other. Anduin ignores the wiggling of the long eyebrows like a champion.

"She's a delightful person, smart, resourceful and gets along well with most people. I took her to Exodar the other day", the ancient draenei smiles. "And don't feel bad about your excursions, your further studying with the Light is an important part of being the king. Every ruler needs to find their own specific strength to be able to defend and represent their people in the best possible way. I am very proud of you, and miss Fordragon is well taken care of."

Anduin had time to sit and talk with his guest only once. He should make more time for the daughter of Bolvar Fordragon - there is much he needs to discuss with her.

 

***

 

In the evening King Anduin Wrynn dresses in casual clothes and a Stormwind tabard and gets ready for his walk. He has done this every day for the last week. He sighs, melancholy and worry but also determination and faith tugging at his emotions. He would so much like to do this right by everyone, but that's impossible. He already knows he will have to betray someone's trust. The council's talk about the trial particularly bothered him. _Well, it cannot be helped._

The sun has set, the twilight descends on the fair city. He pulls a hood over his golden hair and walks out of the Keep, down the steps, past his father's massive statue and then keeping on the canal side, avoiding Trade District and its crowds, he arrives at his destination. He nods to the guards who know to expect him and steps inside the Stockades.

The cell gates are closed for the night and the disguised king walks undisturbed to the furthest end of the corridor on the left where the most dangerous or otherwise challenging prisoners are held in private cells. The one that Varok Saurfang had occupied is yet empty.

All the regular guards had eventually asked to be transferred elsewhere; even the strongest felt uneasy and depressed near Sylvanas’ prison cell. Only the Lightforged draenei that Anduin met in the Vindicaar proved to be strong and cheerful enough to be stationed there.

”Good evening, Geera, Naathok. How are things today?”

”Quite well, your majesty. She’s very quiet but the aura has been strong the whole day.”

”I can take it from here, thank you.” They hand him the keys.

”You are a shining example of a true Lightforged student, your majesty. Such devotion to healing, and with an enemy no less.”

”You make me blush. And it’s Anduin, please.” May the reason for his blushing stay his secret.

”Not while we’re on duty, your majesty! We’ll be down the hall.” The golden-eyed draenei leave, laughing, their hooves clicking on the stone floor. Anduin peeks in through the small barred window and then opens the fortified door with a creak.

Her slender figure is leaning on the back wall of the cell, partly in the dark. She looks worn out, shadows under her eyes, clenching her teeth. The young man closes the door behind him, secures the keys into his belt and reveals his smiling face from under the hood. He does not have to ask, yet he still does. His voice is low and tender.

”How are you, Sylvanas?”

”You know how I am, little lion. I’m sure you felt it while walking here.” The raspy whisper scrapes the silent walls. Her dark aura of agony feels heavy but not completely unbearable. Without moving closer the priest starts the hymn with his whole body and soul, like a big cat purring Holy Light. Her relieved sighs fill the small room.

”I did. It’s getting easier?”

He knows they’re alone, he could sense it if there were eavesdroppers, yet this still feels daring... and exposed in some strange way. He wouldn’t dare touch her, not here.

Oh, but how he wants to. Her red eyes flame. She knows this.

”No, it is not.”

”But I felt —”

”The mere imminence of your visit makes it tolerable. You’re like a clockwork, your majesty, I know when to expect you. Would you also like to put a collar on me?”

Her sarcastic tone is only an echo of a habit; it doesn’t fool the young king. His channeled healing gradually morphs into a caress with the Light, the undead elf answering it with quiet sighs. She starts sending images with her mind, her gaze on him.

He inhales sharp, barely audible. His stance changes only slightly when he tries to adjust his pants that are beginning to feel too tight. She’s on the opposite side of the room from him, yet they _touch._ Anduin’s voice is thick when he answers.

”Well... you did insist on punishment, remember?”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Check the first comment.


	12. Quill and Ink (Mostly)

 

**Anduin’s Diary**

_I sometimes fear I’ve been both selfish and deceitful. Everything just kind of happened, and at the same time I was in control, at least partially... Could I have done things differently? Should I have? I don’t know. Genn insists I sacrificed myself to bring a war criminal to justice and he doesn’t even know the whole story. And I daren’t write any of that down - not out of regret but for safety._

_I think I understand how an underdog becomes a bully themselves… In a harsh world of winning or losing it might be the only option. At least it sounded like that, but I have no idea what it feels like to live in that kind of world._

_We walked alone through Stormwind that night, both of us dressed in hooded cloaks, just like two adventurers looking for cooking quests or enchanting training. No-one bothered us and if anyone recognized me, they were courteously ignoring. I think I felt some fear around us when we passed people, her aura is very powerful… I’ve gotten used to it and sometimes forget it’s there._

_I locked the door myself. It felt heavier than I had imagined - now she is in the hands of justice, not just mine. Two months ago I thought I would feel proud if this happened. The trial is in two weeks' time. I have so much to do before that I barely get any sleep - again._

_Turalyon has taught me a lot already. My powers increase every time I visit the Vindicaar for training, and I’ve only been there on four occasions. It feels amazing and gives me hope ~~for the plan~~. I do use the Light every day now... that must accelerate my progress as well._

_The Netherlight Crucible might not be as powerful as I had hoped… or it’s good enough only for empowering weapons, although Shalamayne didn’t change at all when I tried it. The shards in the Crucible are all that is left of the naaru Xe’ra. What she attempted on Illidan… I need to find out more about this._

_I miss you, father. Every day. I wish you were here yelling at me about how unbelievably careless I have been. I hope you are in peace._

  

** Sylvanas’ letter **

_To Dark Ranger Lyana, Elwynn Forest:_

_I will be gone for an unspecified amount of time. Do not follow me. There might be hope for us if my quest is a success. Blightcaller will lead the Forsaken. Bring my bow from Eversong house tomorrow to the person carrying this letter (yes, really). Attached is a description of the spells to remove the wards._

_\- S.W._

  

** Nathanos’ Secret Missive **

_From Nathanos Blightcaller, Regent Lord of the Forsaken;_

_To be delivered to Forsaken Elite Officers:_

_Our Queen has infiltrated the Alliance in a most daring way. On her orders she is not to be followed lest the plan fails. Spies are to keep at code 3 distance._

 

** Velen’s Hidden Crystal Recording Journal **

_I’ve noticed something disturbing in Anduin. He seems like… almost like a man in love. He has more energy than ever before, his grief has waned, and he has that air of sexual awakening about him that usually only comes with either first love or first experience with someone. I sometimes catch him blushing to himself, deep in thought - or in a memory. I haven’t seen or heard of any courting, and I usually hear most gossip._

_People around him react to this change, whether they realize it or not. I’ve seen women and some men - who’ve talked to him neutrally or politely before this - start addressing him with that particular smile or look on them. I see he notices it but his good nature is flawless and he ignores the flirting with grace while saving everyone’s face._

_It cannot be anything else, so who is it? The change in him started well before Taelia Fordragon returned to Eastern Kingdoms and he doesn't seem to crave her company. I fear… that it’s the only other new contact he has had of late. That would be disastrous in so many levels._

_Yet he doesn’t show any dark side-effects, quite the opposite. Anduin is strong in the Holy Light and keeps getting stronger, the teachings of the Lightforged Army his latest endeavour._

_Maybe everything will turn out fine. The fragments I have seen of this tell of a good, peaceful future._

_Although how long any peace lasts, that can never be certain._

 

** A Public Note from Warchief Varok Saurfang **

_Soldiers of the Horde!_

_With the new treaties we return to the old, honorable ways of the Horde. Some new rules will apply from this day onwards:_

  * _Any use of the blight or the plague will be punishable by death or banishment_
  * _The Val’kyr will be removed from our forces_



_Continue our efforts in Zandalar. Missions will be given by the newly appointed officer Garona Halforcen._

_Lok’tar Ogar!_

 

** A letter to Cyrus Crestfall **

_My dearest Cyrus,_

_You've heard about the truce, of course. Here in Stormwind it's still a bit of a festival. But I'm not really in a celebrating mood because of your news, and the Lord Admiral's letter told us about the same phenomenon. I've been to the harbor every day and talked to many people, but so far there’s nothing like that here. The sea is mostly tranquil._

_Life in the human capital has been very interesting. It feels like a holiday after all that business with the Ashvane Company. Everyone here is very nice and they are teaching me some customs and even politics. I am asked to join the council meetings as well... That feels awkward somehow, but I guess it's because of father? I don't really feel royal but they insist I stay living in the Keep and not in an inn. The guest rooms are ridiculously oversized, I could fit an orphanage in there. They even appointed me my own bodyguards, can you believe that?_

_Two days ago I visited the Exodar and the draenei islands with their leader Velen, who seems to be older than anything except maybe the dragon aspects. Or he might be even older than them, I'm not sure. He is wise and friendly and has kept me company on many days. Their city is like a huge glowing jewel and it used to be a flying ship that crashed on Azeroth from the Twisting Nether._ _So much to learn!_

_The king is very busy with some new studies but I see him at the meetings and he's very ~~cute~~ nice._

_Galeheart likes it here too, thank the Light._

_I hope you're doing well. I miss you._ _Say hi to Flynn for me, don’t let him drink too much._

_A big hug,_

_\- Tae_

 

** A letter to Stormwind Times from a Citizen in a Moderately Bad Mood **

_To the wise-ass who thought it would be funny. I know it was you priest students, your long robes and pious faces don't fool me. My job is to provide fish for the citizens, that includes you too, smartypants. It's not amusing to have to kill them twice, whole barrels of them. I would take up actions against you, but as your joke seems to have healed my gout as well, I let you go with a warning this once. Leave my catch to rest in peace._

 

** A letter to Martha Hall **

_Darling Sister!_

_You don’t believe but I got myself one of them S.E.L.F.I.E. machines the shorties invented. It was a used one, some adventurer hunter sold it cheap near the auction house during the festivities (he was very drunk). Imagine humans training as hunters now? It's true! Oh the times! Here is a picture of your new king (behind me on the left) who single-handedly defeated the Banshee Queen and ended the war, or so they tell us. Remember what I said about him in my last letter? Am I right or am I right? If Karl doesn’t propose you soon, this will warm your nights then, hee hee. You’re welcome!_

_Your loving big sis, Edna_

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m completely sidetracked, another (shortish) chapter without smut! What is this sorcery? Long, deep and hard apologies to those who were waiting for it.


	13. Reflections in Crystal

 

STORMWIND CITY, ALLIANCE TERRITORY

A week before the trial all the prisoners in Stormwind Stockades had started to show symptoms of deep depression or have erratic fits of aggression. Some were even suicidal. All the guards including the two that stood outside were replaced with the Lightforged by now. There was also that curious complaint about the fish acting uncharacteristically near the prison walls. A small emergency council meeting was held after a riot with two inmate casualties.

”It will be safer than here. The Azuremyst is so remote there is literally nowhere to run except to the remains of the elven tree she burned, if she’s keen on swimming across the sea to look upon her handiwork. Now that people know she’s here it might incite riots even on the streets, or attract attempts at freeing her. I agree with Anduin on this. The trial is close. She will soon get what she deserves.”

”The prison of Light will contain her dangerous aura inside it the same way it does to a demon’s fel magic. We’ve successfully imprisoned many a dangerous foe in these cubicles”, Velen continues. To the young king’s surprise both of his father figures support his suggestion. It took a lot of courage for him to bring the idea to the council - he has an inkling that the prophet knows something… about him and _her_. Fortunately Velen took his side, but some of the glances he’s given make Anduin uncomfortable. Yet he feels only love, concern and pride from his teacher, the same cocktail of emotions he has always expressed for him.

He is relieved beyond words and tries his mightiest not to show it. Anduin has never been one to lie and probably would not be very good at it. Omitting facts is the best he can do in that field, or staying tactically silent. All the reasons for relocating their war criminal to Exodar are sound. But he has one more, a very daring one, and it burns in his mind.

”Have you actually kept anyone _this_ powerful inside these prisons, prophet?”

”She is currently held inside simple stone walls, Lord Romano. The eredar technology adds magic into the crystal walls, but if you don’t trust the spells, then trust the material. It’s as strong as Azerothian diamonds.”

”Point taken. What about the transfer, then? It’s always a risk...”

”Her powers have waned some. And I will lead her escort myself.” Anduin doesn’t want too many to know just how much Sylvanas has lost her undead powers. He’s afraid some of the more vindictive leaders would take that as a sign to execute justice by their own hand. None of them but him have been to see her after the incarceration -the others refrain from facing her until they can do it publicly.

Not wanting to draw any attention to the transfer the young king asks miss Purdue to open a direct portal to Exodar inside the Stockades later that afternoon. He contemplates how easy that is, when one has the means or the right to ask for a gateway leading anywhere they wished. He and Velen open Sylvanas' cell door as the escort of ten Lightforged draenei arrive. She is as tortured, silent and ethereally beautiful as she was the night before, leaning to the furthest wall of the room like she wanted to sink into it. The clothes on her are the simple prisoner’s uniform: leather pants, linen shirt and tunic, cloth shoes. She is seething agony but there are small sparkles of relief and even joy about her.

Distracting his feelings with the task of channelling the Holy makes this bearable for Anduin, but only just. Hiding his nervousness he walks to her and explains the situation, sounding curt but knowing she alone sees his eyes at that moment. Sylvanas glances at him but keeps her expressions in check.

”A _different_ place to be miserable in? How splendid. Show me the way, High King."

”Come.” He offers his arm like a gentleman and she indulges him, and what the draenei see is a young king with formidable, silent authority. The prophet sees more, and some pieces click into place. The guards surround them and they all pass through the portal together. In the midst of the tight group Sylvanas presses herself against Anduin’s side and for a moment he too leans against her.

Once in Exodar they take her directly to the new cell. One could almost call it guest chambers, so much more comfortable it is compared to the ascetic’s closet they left. Velen believes taking the freedom and any contacts to the outside world is enough of a punishment, and the Light prisons are attuned to every inhabitant individually. The convicts are kept alive, healthy, conscious and unable to use any spells, like in some Warden’s Barrows. There’s no need for chains or physical violence. There’s a bed, a small bathroom, a table and a chair, and a chance to borrow as many books as one likes, provided they aren’t of magic. _Mostly history and romance,_  a guard explains. Rolling her eyes, Sylvanas sits on the bed, hiding her pain from everyone but Anduin. He takes a seat, chastely some feet away on the chair.

As it happens, the cubes are also soundproofed when required. He tries his hardest not to think it further, but he is a lost cause in this regard. It’s his luck the color of the crystal structure in question is close to the shade of purple that rises on his cheeks.

”I will visit and heal you daily like before.” Turning to Velen and the escort he nods to them with a royal air he has come to learn usually works in dismissing people without expressly ordering them. They bow and leave, the prophet’s eyes lingering on his. Anduin knows he will have to talk with him eventually. He closes the round door and it seals shut with a musical chime. Starting the channelling again he speaks with a low, tender voice.

”Sylvanas. I must travel to Quel’Danas tomorrow." She twitches barely noticeably at the mention of the place where so many of her people, her original people, fell to the death knight. The pain of that memory has returned like many other things from her life. There’s grief, frustration, rage. Her eyes are closed, she’s humming in tune with his Light.

”That means I might be gone for some… days. Two, maybe even four. I’m concerned how—”

”You know this won’t kill me, little lion. What do you search? An audience with the Sunwell?”

”That… I’m sure they would let me, but truthfully I didn’t even remember the Well when planning this trip. I think I've read something about it not helping the undead, as powerful as it is.”

She opens her red eyes. He feels a surge of her joy and, because nothing is simple, her anger wash over him. He answers it with a soft slam of a figurative Holy cushion.

”Yes. I thought you knew.”

”You don’t give up easily, even when the cause is this desperate.”

”Would you like me to?”

Sylvanas closes her eyes again and bathes in the Light he is emitting. The days without this will be torturous, she will probably be _unavailable_ when it comes to reading books. Or existing. And now that she’s become used to the boy knowing her moods and needs without a word uttered between them, the thought of losing his company colors everything bleak. She has dropped the last shreds of shame concerning her exposed emotions - it’s actually wonderfully liberating to trust someone, even if in their case it started a bit forcefully.

_I could have just fled._

_No, you would have perished._

But the trial nears, and she knows the verdict already.

”I don’t see the point, not with this time frame you have.” Yet for a moment she lets herself feel hope. Just for a brief moment. Then she crushes it. Anduin cocks his head to the side, smiling, and she knows he felt it too.

”I’m sending someone I trust to heal you while I’m away. I hope you two get along.” He gets up to leave. The opaque crystal room seems less public than the Stormwind cells, but he hesitates.

”I’m sure we’ll be lovers by the end of the week.” Her seducing, mocking voice surprises him completely. The mental image of Sylvanas embracing the Lightforged draenei lady he had chosen for the task will now ruin his hopes of evading Velen’s questions once he exits the crystal prison. He takes a deep breath.

”I… wish you hadn’t said that. I’ll return as soon as I can. Try to… endure.”

”I will do my best, your majesty.” She’ll cherish the memory of his beautiful face, blushing, baffled and aroused, in the days to come.

 

****

 

That night king Anduin Wrynn travels to Ironforge by Deeprun Tram. His entourage is ten soldiers strong, this time half Lightforged, half Stormwind elite guards. The prophet’s words keep echoing in his mind. The elder didn’t confront him in any particularly unpleasant way, yet the king felt like a child having a fertility conversation with their parents.

_You will give up so much if you follow that road._

His flushed face had revealed enough. Velen had already guessed or otherwise realized his secret. The prophet didn’t press him to tell more and he told very little. He knows it is a folly, to let one's heart get attached to an enemy who also, officially, only has days to live. But Anduin had already made his peace with his feelings, even without consciously phrasing what must change as a consequence. Most of his life had been tumultuous one way or another and he’s acted the adult as long as he can remember. Would he want to hand down a life like this? Did he expect to _ever_ have a time when he could relax like a normal man, put his feet up and read stories to his children? Unless Azeroth is safe he cannot rest. That’s his duty, and his calling beyond duty. The task might just last the whole duration of his life - even if he renounced the crown.

And didn't the prophet's worried words actually hint at that precise outcome?

In the morning they leave on rested gryphons towards the northernmost edge of Eastern Kingdoms. The flight will take the whole day and possibly half the night as well. The treaty between the two factions allows them to fly through the Thalassian Pass and over Quel’Thalas as long as they stay far from any settlements.

The only naaru that Anduin has any hope of reaching in time resides in the Isle of Quel’Danas where it watches over the Sunwell and the remnants of the Shattered Sun Offensive forces located there.

 

_****_

 

EXODAR, ALLIANCE TERRITORY

 

_”Sylvanas.”_

_”...Little Moon.”_

_”Can I come in?”_

_”I’m the one incarcerated, why don’t you ask my jailers?”_

The crystal door opens weightlessly like it only lacked her permission. Her little sister Vereesa, the leader of the Silver Covenant, steps in, looking concerned and apprehensive.

”Do sit down. Should I call for refreshments?” She mocks, but it lacks real bitterness. Old habits die slowly, it seems.

”I... wanted to see you one last time.” She isn’t sure what to say, and her eyes tear up.

Sylvanas is about to answer something witty, her mouth opens -and then it hits her like a Fel Reaver an inattentive druid. _I was planning to murder her then._ How could she even have considered converting her sister, this noble, beautiful creature to undeath, to suffer all that she has suffered? What was she _thinking_ then? She can’t remember, it’s like reaching for someone else’s thoughts from another century.

”Are you alright?” Vereesa’s voice tells her she still cares, after all the indifference the Banshee Queen had shown her.

”This is …my sentence”, she gasps through the tears she cannot stop. She can’t look her in the eyes.

”Sylvanas, I’ve… _never_ seen you cry, not since—”

”The little king …figured out a way to …make me _feel_ again …It’s practically killing me but then I’m … already dead, aren’t I?”

Vereesa isn’t oblivious to the way she says his nickname. Is it possible, after all that’s happened, that the last unwed Windrunner sister has found her mate? Or her match, at least, and a human male no less. That would make her smile but the timing crushes her heart, and she’s alarmed by her condition. Surprising even herself Vereesa reaches for her trembling sister’s hand and the other lets her entwine their fingers together. The intimacy and nostalgia of the gesture only increases her agony.

”Is there anything I can do?”

 _”Call a priest.”_ She would chuckle at the absurdity of the plea if her mind weren’t spiralling down the void.

”What, really?” Vereesa opens the cell door in haste and yells for the Lightforged draenei Anduin had left in charge of Sylvanas’ wellbeing.

It very soon becomes evident that it was a mistake.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The crystal prison conjured up by yours truly


	14. Farewells

 

ISLE OF QUEL’DANAS, EASTERN KINGDOMS

Isle of Quel’Danas looked golden and shining even at nighttime when the royal Alliance retinue had landed on the pier. Now, in the morning sun the scene is phenomenal. Anduin isn’t sure he’s ever seen a place this beautiful except maybe the Valley of Eternal Blossoms, before its corruption. Feeling a bit nervous he ascends the steps of the inn to meet K’iru. The naaru floats on a balcony, overlooking the square of reclaimed high elven buildings.

All his anxieties vanish reaching the ancient being. Anduin feels soothed and trustful in the presence of the blue, diamond-like entity of pure light; musical chimes echo around it and he realizes it’s the naaru’s voice, or the part of it that manifests in the physical reality. He can understand the words in his heart and mind.

_”You’ve come on behalf of someone who is almost lost. I have heard her story, and in her life she was valiant and true beyond average. But even while her change was a tragic violence against her, embracing undeath she has lost all touch with that what is alive; the Light cannot heal those who deny it.”_

”Please, revered K’iru. There is hope for her yet. I have been able to heal her with the Holy Light - the changes are slow, small and possibly temporary, but they are real.”

He feels the naaru’s spirit reaching into his mind and he lets it see _everything_ \- now is not the time for bashfulness, and he probably wouldn’t have a choice on what exactly it sees after the permission.

_”I have not seen this happen with mortals before. Your connection to the Light is strong, young leader, but that alone cannot explain this phenomenon. Your love for her must be one of the reasons.”_

”Can you advise me, being of Light? Could there be a way to cure her, or to fuse her soul into her body, or... I don’t know all that is possible. I heard that Xe’ra…”

_”Xe’ra was a Prime, far more powerful than I am. Even if Sylvanas Windrunner cut all ties with the dark forces I see no way of permanently saving her.”_

Anduin’s heart sinks hearing this, but he doesn’t give in to desperation, not until he has tried every option. Twice.

_”Light is energy, it does not judge, it just flows where it can. You know this, priest. In death, or in undeath, Light cannot flow - yet you have achieved something unimaginable. Go speak to A’dal, the Sha’tar leader. He can say more than I can. After the fall of Xe’ra and O’ros he is the one with most power.”_

”A’dal is in... Outland. I don’t know if there’s enough time for...”

_”I sense you are needed in Exodar, now. Use this time given to you wisely, Anduin Wrynn.”_

”But-”

With a flash of searing white light he finds himself standing at the other end of Azeroth, back in the draenei capital city.

 

***

 

When he opens the crystal prison door Anduin almost falls over. Sylvanas is _screaming_ in his mind and her emotions are violent white noise. There's Vereesa and the Lightforged priest Geera, trying to help the catatonic high elf. She's flickering in and out of some version of the banshee form, a remnant of her undead might and curse. The voiceless scream tears through their souls.

"Your majesty! Thank the Light you're here! I don't know what I did wrong, but it sure isn't working."

"Anduin! Do you know what ails her?"

The young king drops what he was carrying to the corner, takes off his gloves and rushes to the bedside.

"Yes, this is partly my fault. You did exactly what I asked, Geera, you are not to blame. We should have tested this before I left."

"But I thought we did?"

"I think I forgot one element from the cure. Thank you, I will take it from here. Vereesa, I'll talk to you later?"

Anduin lays his hands on Sylvanas' shoulders and she eventually stops shaking, the internal scream soothes into small vocal sobs and her wet eyes close. He gently guides her to lie on the bed. Her sister and the draenei priest look at the drastic change in awe. Leaving the cubicle they hear him talking to her in a soft, low voice, but they can't make out the words.

_I have a hunch what that missing element is,_ Vereesa thinks, smiling sadly to herself while closing the door behind her. She wipes her cheeks. _But isn't it a bit late?_

Inside the purple prison Anduin Wrynn undresses his plates while healing the whole room with his expanding Holy aura. He clicks some shards in a different position on the control panel beside the door. Sylvanas watches his movements under her lashes, mind in turmoil.

_Don’t ever leave me like that again!_

Her pride wrestles with the new need for connection and honesty. She stays quiet. But her lover senses some of it.

"I am _so_ sorry. I should have realized..."

"Young man, I'll have you know I'm not dead yet", Sylvanas croaks head buried deep in the pillows. ”Though it did feel close enough. Damn this existence."

He leans over her and places his warm hands on her stomach, and, as a second thought, slides them under her shirt on her cold skin. She sighs deeply and after a while the torment lessens considerably, slowly giving way to pleasure.

"How did you get back so fast? Have you finally excelled in Arcane?"

"Apparently the naaru can teleport as well as bless. K'iru somehow knew there was something amiss here. My group is still at the isle."

"Was your quest a success?" She shifts her position giving him room to sit beside her.

"Not the way I had hoped. But now I know what I must do next."

"So do I." She pushes his hands lower, under her belt. Anduin chuckles.

"I _was_ talking about a long-term plan but never mind. You recover very fast", he teases, obeying her non-subtle hints and opening the laces of her pants. His movements are assertive, void of any shyness or uncertainty he had when they first met _in the flesh_. Sylvanas has a fleeting thought about the waste of it since their relationship is almost at an end. _Oh well, some human partner can benefit from my work one day._

"Yes, but these shifts from one extreme to another are exhausting. I will have to lie here and rest now."

"I’ll tend to you further, then." They both grin playfully and hear it in the other’s voice.

_Maybe there's enough time for this._ He kisses lightly down from her belly to her hipbones to her mound, pulling the rough inmate pants down. His whole body shimmers with Light, his hands burn her skin. Her want sets his aflame, and he can feel how she needs him and delights in every touch of his lips and hands.

He knows, though Sylvanas probably wouldn’t outright admit to it, that she also finds joy simply by being in his company - and how else would you describe love if not by these things? And what are words worth, truly, compared to this unobstructed, clear and shared _knowing?_

Anduin drops her pants onto the floor and, channelling Holy like it was breathing to him now, tenderly bites a path from her raised knee to her inner thigh until he reaches her nether lips. Her arousal is directly proportional to the mental and spiritual pain she has undergone and it makes the priest moan before she does to the brush of his tongue.

"Very daring of you, little lion. You would not touch me in _your_ city, what makes this any different?"

"Opaque soundproof crystal walls with no windows?” He grins. That makes the elf laugh.

”Or because there won’t be another chance and you don’t care anymore?”

Anduin halts his task and looks her in the eye, head between her thighs, feeling the mixture of her emotions undulate between opposites. Her melancholy is an obvious _goodbye._

”False and false, if I have any say in things. Try again?” He returns his lips on her arousal. His sweet, relentless tongue and his restorative fingers soon send her flying into that spiritual-carnal bliss she has only ever experienced with this boy. His behaviour tells of a strong determination, he sounded almost cheerful. She doesn’t smell sadness but there’s a bit of fear. _What is the little lion up to?_

Sitting on his haunches on the bed the priest king starts opening his trousers and then pauses, looking at her like waiting for a permission or a plea. His small teasing smile makes her exclaim.

”What? Of course I want them off! What are you...”

”No, I just... I don’t know how much time we have.”

”That’s the fundamental uncertainty of life, isn’t it? Better get on with it, then.” Sylvanas sits up to help him release his full erection from the tight hold of the linen pants. They settle for getting it out, leaving the pants half on. The young man jolts at her grabbing him by the shaft.

”Still so sensitive? Oh, that’s _wonderful._ Do I have time to take this in my mouth or are the armies already at that door?” Her thumb slides gently over the slick, swollen tip, making him whine.

”I’m not... sure... _oh, Light!”_

”Just say when to stop, High King.”

Sylvanas licks the tip slowly with the flat of her tongue and then guides the engorged member into her mouth, sliding it to her throat and back. She does this extremely slowly, relishing in his every quiver and throb.

_If this is the last time, well... better make it a memorable one._

Soon she feels his scorching hand in the back of her neck. ”Stop...”

She smiles as much as she can with his thickness in her mouth and ignores the plea, humming a sort of muffled ”nuh-uh”. As intended, that incites him to grab a bunch of her hair and gently pull her lips off him.

”You still don’t take orders well.”

”Never, your majesty.”

Anduin pushes her lying onto the mattress and towers over her, smiling with that charismatic, quiet confidence he has. She squirms herself around and leaning on her arms peeks at him over her shoulder, lips twitching to an answering smile. He can feel her thorough enjoyment and only tiny hints of the agony.

She tilts her hips up and the young man slides his palms over her round buttocks, caressing, healing. His fingers trace her spine up to her neck and she arches, purring at his touch. His hand returns down and presses on her lower back, keeping her in place and seething hot Holy Light. Finally he sinks his cock into her slick, anticipating core, mimicking the same excruciatingly slow pace she used on him with her mouth. Every inch burns and makes her moan more than the previous.

”Yes... yes... _oh, gods...!”_ It almost slips from her lips how much she loves this - their dynamic, the feel of his skin, nearly everything about ...him.

In the end it matters little to admit to something like that when one has to perish soon, even if it was a bit sentimental. And she knows he can feel it.

Anduin slowly pulls half his length out and thrusts back in her, his eyes closed to sense everything better. She pushes against him, urging a faster rhythm but he complies only somewhat, gripping her hips for control. Slowly, slowly they sway into a trancelike ecstasy, filled with sighs, touch of skin, his radiating magic, their unspoken emotions and advancing orgasm. Anduin feels her approaching the peak in pace with him. Leaning over her back he slips his hand around her hips, finds her perky clit and his fingers glide slickly over it. He concentrates a surge of Light directly into those fingers and the combined stimulation pushes her wailing into sweet oblivion.

_"Sylvanas,"_ he whispers right before joining her, moaning with abandon, sinking hilt deep into her. He spills deliciously, thoroughly inside her in hot bursts. She can't feel anything but him.

When she comes to, she finds herself thinking, amused, whether his seed is also made of Holy Light, since it feels as good as his fiery healing.

Anduin feels there isn't much time to bask in the glow. He gets up and takes her with him to the small shower corner by walking backwards and pulling her into a soft kiss under the water. The tenderness is almost too much for her but she bears it on the notion of this probably being their last time. _Fine, let him feel. At least someone mourns me then._

When they've bathed she watches him dress in brown travel clothes: leather pants and boots, hooded cape and a tunic with lots of pockets. He rummages through the bags he came in with and hands her a pile of clothes that look like the ones he is wearing. He is full of fear and determination, adrenaline coursing through him.

”Put these on. This backpack is for you. I will return very shortly.” Her bow sticks out from the bag he had pointed.

A wave of hopeful, amazed joy almost tips him over. He turns to the source of it who, practical and fast that she is, is already halfway dressed and has not let her emotions nor the streaming tears slow her down. _Curse this sensitivity, I'll never get used to it._

Anduin flashes a smile at her. _”Yes._ Fingers crossed.”

The young man takes the other rucksack and, clicking the shards this way and that, opens the door and leaves. He finds Velen not far from the crystal prisons, close to the portals like he guessed he would.

”I can sense K’iru’s blessing on you, Anduin. You are stronger than when you left."

”Do you know what I'm about to do?”

”I think I do. You transferred her here for this, didn’t you? The Dark Portal doesn’t work anymore and this is one of the few remaining public portals to our timeline's Draenor.”

”I have to try it, though it's very uncertain...”

”Most things are. Are you sure about this, about your heart? You know how many ties you will break. You might never again be welcome to some places.”

Anduin doesn’t have to answer the question, the old draenei sees it in his gleaming face. ”That might still depend on the success of my attempt. What about you, prophet?”

”I will always be your friend, Anduin. Now, I am going to pretend I never saw anything.” Smiling sadly he bows to his pupil and turns to walk away from the portals.

”There’s an official letter on my table in Stormwind Keep appointing Taelia my successor, Genn the regent until she's old or ready enough and you her head advisor. I don’t see myself returning to rule after this stunt... I’m convinced they will sort everything out fine. Will you make sure the letter is found?”

"I will. Light be with you, my dear boy."

Sylvanas Windrunner, no longer the Warchief, no longer the Queen of the Forsaken and no longer a complete banshee either is all geared up and ready, dark hood covering her moon-white hair and distinct face markings, her bow slung over her shoulder. When Anduin opens the door and gestures that the way is clear she is swiftly at his side.

”Where to, High King?”

”Oh, I’m not a king anymore. I couldn’t bear the thought of having to... share a tent with someone below my station.”

”Well then, I need to invent new monikers for you, little lion.”

It’s either Velen’s doing or some other chance that the halls between the prison and their destination are completely desolate.

Anduin takes her hand and together they step through the portal to Hellfire Peninsula.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No huge cliffhangers this time (or is there...?)


	15. Wastelands in Bloom

  

HELLFIRE PENINSULA, OUTLAND 

Anduin Wrynn wakes up to a feeling of agony. Not his, as he soon realizes. It takes a moment for him to remember why he is sleeping in a small army tent.

”Sylvanas? Are you alright?”

He stumbles out of the tent, worried, only to find her being more practical than he would have guessed of anyone. There’s a pile of boar carcasses in front of their camp, very mutilated and in pieces, and she is making a fire.

He raises an eyebrow. ”Breakfast?”

She looks at him, then her gaze shifts lower to the front of his travel trousers that are bulging in a tempting fashion.

”Well, good morning to _you_ too. Yes, _please.”_

Anduin glances down at himself, blushes and laughs nervously.

”Oh, this - erm… one moment, do continue with your… butchering.” He sneaks behind the red rocky hill that had served as a shelter for the night.

 

****

 

Hellfire Peninsula is as barren and broken as the adventurers’ stories had described. Anduin had acquired some knowledge of the current situation, all the reports and books he could find. He had not dared to ask anyone except sometimes a small detail or two from Velen. No expeditions from Azeroth had journeyed to Hellfire in ages. Some occasional hero or a crafter would venture here from time to time, but since the big threats had been cleared more than a decade ago Outland, their fel-broken timeline of Draenor, wasn't any tourist attraction. The Horde occupies some towns and areas, just like the Alliance, but with a bare minimum of forces and frequent shift rotation.

They had run into a fight on their arrival day as soon as they'd stepped deeper into the zone.

The monumental Stair of Destiny in front of the dead yet impressive Dark Portal was silent and desolate of almost any people when they appeared through the portal. Their hoods drawn deep over their faces the former faction leaders feigned nonchalance and walked calmly past the few soldiers and mages that still held watch there. No-one really seemed to care much about arrivals. One dwarf said hi.

”We should avoid all known settlements, just in case. The Honor Hold is to the west that way, but I wouldn’t risk them recognizing us. The Sons of Lothar still have people there, I think.”

”So south, near the edge?”

”Yes. Velen found me this old map.”

”Give me that, I’m the ranger in this party.”

They aimed to go through the ragged Peninsula, towards the old southwestern route to Terokkar. A notch between two hills opened towards a sloping valley of the same burnt orange rocky soil. There were some little blotches of green here and there - the pair was unaware of it, but the Cenarion Expedition, which was still active here, had managed to fertilize some areas successfully.

Blending into the shadows wasn’t an easy task during daytime on a treeless desert that went on and on. They tried to stay as far away as they could from the buildings they saw uphill, but soon there was a band of red orcs running towards them with an awful ruckus.

"Do they speak common orcish, you think?"

"Oh, forget the diplomacy, priest. Let's test our teamwork with them instead." She had picked her bow from her back and nocked an arrow, all this under two seconds. Anduin unsheathed his glowing heirloom sword from an ordinary looking dark leather scabbard - it had been imperative to hide it, and it might even be a risk to reveal it here. "I'm convinced we match perfectly, like we do in --” He hesitated.

"What is it?"

"I don't like showing our weapons, someone might recognize them. Why didn't I think of this earlier?"

"You were distracted.” With a wave of her hand she had turned their weapons into very ordinary, dull-looking ones. Her bow seemed to be made of old sticks and rags, and the sword looked like something you'd get as a payment for a job done in Northshire Abbey.

"Oh. Very convenient, thank you."

He clashed on the orc squad with a combined sword attack and Holy detonation that knocked all of them several meters backwards. Shalamayne answered to his Light energy now and even if he still isn't a true melee fighter, somehow his inner power made the sword handling seem like a dance with golden wings on. Sylvanas slew half of the enemies with her precisely aimed arcane-infused arrows and one poor orc that got close to her realized too late that there is such a hybrid as a ranger-shadowcaster. The spells she used were a mixture of Shadow and Arcane, rare and efficient. Soon the rest of the Bleeding Hollow orcs ran back to the safety of their fortress.

He felt her bloodlust and joy completely submerge the constant background agony.

"How about we disappear before they come back? Behind that hill should be an old human camp on a spot that's perfect for defense fight."

"I wouldn't mind killing some more."

Anduin had chuckled, swiping his brow for strands of hair. "You're insatiable in so many ways, lady Windrunner. We don't need to hunt them into extinction.”

The orcs didn't follow them. They had camped for the night between some rocks near a haunted-looking human made armory. Not too close though, just in case. Anduin had wanted to savour her resting beside him in the tent, but he had fallen asleep in the middle of healing her and didn’t know for how long she stayed there.

 

****

 

Sylvanas manoeuvres one of the late boars into a makeshift skewer and leaves it to roast.

”You do realize, little lion, that you will have to _take care_ of me every day for the unforeseeable future?”

”I’m… aware of the consequences of my choices, yes.” He doesn’t sound devastated at all.

She pushes him towards the tent but then stops and, grinning slyly, lowers herself to her haunches and starts opening his pants. The young man gasps. He’s too surprised to react in time and his cock, back in its morning hardness, is already sliding inside her mouth. She likes her breakfast raw.

”Ah! No - not here in the open - _oh, gods!_ \- someone might - see -”

She slides it to the back of her throat and then slowly lets it out while sucking around the whole length. Her hands are on his tight buttocks, holding him still. Her lips maintain a soft skin contact on his tip when she talks.

”I know. That’s why I have my hood on. You should cover your golden hair too, little prince.”

”I didn’t mean - _oh dear Light_ -” She licks the head of his member and ignores his pleas for chaste behaviour. It’s so _delicious_ to tease the boy and find things that either provoke him or make him lose coherent thought. In addition to the Light Treatment, feeling his arousal and bafflement makes her forget the hurt.

And it's also just pure fun to observe.

Anduin tries to move backwards to the tent but her grip is iron. _So much for her becoming weaker._ Resigning, he pulls the hood over his face and tries to maintain balance as her other hand finds his balls and her wet mouth is again enveloping his length. Glancing warily around the red deserted land he bites his lower lip so as not to whimper too loud. He watches his cock disappearing and appearing under her hood, glistening with saliva, almost painfully hard, purple on the head. He feels her desire grow the more he struggles with his modesty. _Well, two can play this game._ Starting a strong channelling of Light on her he whines with the real force of his need.

”Sylvanas… _please..!”_

Her want peaks like a sudden geyser at hearing that and she moans around his member. She pushes him into the tent and he falls on his back on their blankets, laughing breathlessly. The undead high elf is fast, sitting on him in seconds, having pulled only one pant leg off and dropping her cloak while she sheathes him. Anduin closes his eyes. The stretch of his shaft makes Sylvanas purr.

”Next time I’m _taking_ you outside on the ground.”

”Oh, you are evil.”

She rides him fast, her lust and remaining agony making her chase the completion with vigour. The priest emits waves of Holy on her, casts Penance and Renew, punishment and mending. They rise together in the heat.

”I’ve heard that being said of me, yes.”

He reaches for her face and she lowers it towards him. Making her see a glimpse of a serious antithesis to his last playful sentence Anduin pulls her into a deep kiss and while she can’t ride as fast in this position he starts thrusting upwards. His other hand sneaks between their joined bodies, a thumb pressed on her clit and using the Light as an ignition the priest makes her _explode_ there and then like on an order. She cries against his lips and he comes along with her, panting but still kissing her messily, pumping inside her like a volcano.

"Oh, _damn you_ and your Holy Light.”

"You don't feel angry."

The undead elf knows she can't live without him, and there’s nothing sentimental about this very literal notion. At times she loves it, yet it's frustrating and wounding her pride. She stays resting on top of him in his healing embrace until his fluids start leaking to the insides of his thighs.

”We should get going."

Sylvanas chops the roasted parts of the boar into bite-sized pieces for the trip (for him; she still doesn't eat, much). Anduin disassembles the tent. They put on the cloaks and the backpacks and set marching towards the southern edge of this broken world.

"I don’t know how long we have until they realize we’ve gone... or where we've gone. Probably a day or two since Velen won’t tell - but the guards will see the empty prison and... I don't really know the protocol. If they inform Velen first, then we might have a bit of time."

"You've taken a big risk, little lion, for what could very well be a mistake, a passing fancy or at least a probable failure. How will you react when they _do_ find us?"

"Truthfully... I don't know. I guess I'd reason with them?" She laughs, having decided days ago to enjoy every painless second she has and not care about the next. She's on a borrowed time as it is. This is her fourth, no, fifth chance at life? Or something resembling life, anyway.

One of these days she'll have to tell him about the death that's awaiting her.

"Most of this is not a headlong whim, you know. I _did_ end the war. And preserving life and lessening pain have always been my most important principles, be it about the life of a mad enemy leader or a kitten. This -" he makes a gesture between them, ripe with meaning - _"thing,_ well, it just sort of gave more gravity to my principle."

"You are _not_ comparing me with small felines."

"No. Only another lion would do." He looks ahead like it was nothing but he can feel her swallow a bubbling laughter. _That pride... even if I succeeded in curing her we would clash like elks._ Having had his fill on animal symbolism he changes the subject.

”You are not as weak as you imply at times, to be able to fight like you did yesterday.”

"On the contrary, fighting is the only _other_ thing that helps me cope. It's not my body that ails me, you know this. But _you_ \- what was that attack you used? It wasn’t how the paladins do it, it was …something else. And you are getting stronger every day."

"How do you kn-- _oh."_

_"Yes."_

"I somehow do feel stronger every time I use the Light, like it feeds itself."

"In that case I'm a blessing, not a curse."

The prince chuckles. "Yes. And speaking of blessings... When I came back Velen sensed K'iru had given me some power. I was in too much of a hurry to notice... now I'm not sure if I should feel it somehow."

"If it's something very natural to you it might not feel different in its dormant state."

Travelling the whole morning they pass the abandoned human-made fortress that looks haunted and traverse wide barren wastelands until they are forced to return to the road. The only route forward goes through a fracture in a decrepid rampart wall. They pass through it only to face a dead end. A razorthorn forest, thick, prickly and impenetrable, blocks the way. They hear skittering in the midst of the bushes.

"There should be a road through here, we are practically at the border to Terokkar Forest."

"The local nature seems to have found another use for it."

"But don't people travel to Shattrath anymore? This is truly odd. And we really don't have time to waste..."

"Maybe those few who still go there use a portal. It's an old spell but with enough money the mages might just find the ingredients." She looks at him curiously, raising an amused eyebrow. "You look like you would very much like to swear."

Anduin sighs deeply. "You're not wrong. We need to go around these mountains and it'll take another whole day to travel to the western pass, and a third one to go through Zangarmarsh to the south. _And_ we need to stay near the main road here, which is a risk." Sylvanas feels his worry and determination and silently loves him for it.

"Is your prophet a good liar?"

"He's good at sounding obscure."

"Let us hope that is enough."

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Road trip! Yay? Yay! In my reasoning, even if there are still portals to Shattrath for players, the Outland that we experienced in the Burning Crusade expansion was for that time period only. I try to imagine here a bit what Outland would be like today, after years of not being the focus of the heroes’ efforts. Kind of like how the chronology should *really* go if we could only play one character ever and time moved on. So - not many portals to Shatt anymore, and Anduin couldn’t have used public ones in any case when trying to be secretive and shielding a war criminal; Velen kept the one portal in Exodar mainly for sentimental reasons.  
> 


	16. Shifting Power

 

EXODAR, AZUREMYST ISLE

"This is impossible! These prisons were supposed to be impenetrable!"  
  
”That's really odd. She couldn't get far in the state she was.”  
  
”What do you mean?” The little amount of patience Genn has is almost spent. Vereesa considers her words carefully.  
  
”My sister seemed unbalanced and fragile. Anduin was healing her for some spiritual pain.”  
  
”The boy is too nice for his own good." He sees her flinch and almost apologizes. "This doesn’t make any sense! Where’s Velen? And the absent High King needs to be informed at once!”  
  
One of the guards steps in. ”The prophet is outside sending our forces to comb through Azuremyst Isle.”  
  
”Fine. I need to see him immediately.”  
  
”This way, king Greymane."  
  
Genn Greymane and Vereesa Windrunner meet the leader of the draenei at the entrance to Exodar. There are scouts and soldiers in the yard preparing to leave on elekk-back and by foot.  
  
”So, no signs of breaking anything or use of spells? She must have had help. Either the Horde were here already or they had to row from Darkshore.”  
  
"No, not a sign, Genn", says the prophet, seemingly absent-minded. While they stand there, a hurried messenger from Stormwind catches them, running up the same ramp they just ascended.  
  
"King Greymane! This came from Isle of Quel'Danas! Master Shaw received it, there's also a note from him."  
  
The brief message explains the little that was known or understood of the young king's disappearance from Quel’Danas. He had left no word, leaving his entourage very confused. It took them half a day of waiting until they realized something was off. Mathias Shaw and SI:7 were as baffled as them concerning Anduin’s whereabouts - their operative in the king’s group had informed that unless the naaru ate him they had no idea what had happened. The being of Light had jingled pleasantly and told nothing, except ”not to worry”, which is their default answer to most mortal problems. The Lightforged and the Stormwind guards promised to continue their search on the Isle, the Sunwell and all the surroundings.  
  
Genn can't get a word out of his mouth. Brows knit in thought he hands the paper to Vereesa. She scans it fast.  
  
"Well, this is... Maybe he sneaked to the Sunwell on his own? Wasn't that the purpose of the trip? He's known for his escapades."  
  
Geera, the Lightforged priest, joins them. ”Prophet, the convict cannot survive alone for long. She had severe symptoms of magic addiction or some other spiritual weakness. For some reason the High King was the only one who could heal her. She reacted violently to the Light wielded by anyone else.”  
  
Several metaphorical lanterns light up the same time. Vereesa glances inconspicuously at the prophet who turns his eyes towards the horizon, pretending this search might amount to something.  
  
There’s a low growl and with a puff of fur they have a beast-shaped worgen king among them.  
  
_”He wouldn’t dare!”_  
  
Vereesa takes a measured step away from the irate wolfman. ”But you knew he—”  
  
”She tried to murder us! She murdered countless night elves! How can Anduin -”  
  
”Wait, you mean to say you suspect _him_ of being her accomplice? But wasn’t he at Quel’Danas? There’s no way he could have had time to return here, and the isle has no town portals.” Vereesa agrees with the hunch wholeheartedly but something makes her contradict Genn. Some soft, hopeful part in her soul...  
  
"If he just vanished from the isle who knows where he ended up and how fast!"  
  
"They might still find him there. Let's not jump into wild conclusions."

Prophet Velen steps in. ”You should search his quarters in Stormwind Keep and the room in Ironforge he stayed in before departing. Anduin _always_ leaves a message even if his sudden trips lasted merely an afternoon. If he had planned something, there should be a note somewhere, he's that considerate. There were no letters here.”  
  
Technically he isn’t saying anything untrue. He had removed the Outland Portal very discreetly from Exodar after its last use. He predicts he will later feel some remorse.  
  
"If he's been kidnapped _again_ , there won't be notes anywhere except for ransom!"  
  
”With his newfound power I’m sure Anduin can take care of himself. We will go there later today for the council meeting.”  
  
”We can’t wait that long! I’ll return there immediately and search his rooms myself.”  
  
”At least wait for your beast to calm down, you don’t want to alarm the whole city. I’ll accompany you”, Vereesa says with a calming voice.  
  
”Fine.” The worgen grits his teeth until he controls his rage enough to turn back into human.  
  
Velen walks them to the mage shop in the Vault of Lights for them to order a gateway back to Stormwind. Of the active portals there’s only the old one for Darnassus, now redirected to a beach in Darkshore.  
  
”Could she have escaped through here?”  
  
”Alliance portal, the magic wouldn't let her pass.”

 

  
**** 

 

HELLFIRE PENINSULA, OUTLAND

Hellfire Citadel looming in the distance the escapee pair traverse the arid land of flayers, ravagers and fel-cleansed yet aggressive boars until they stumble upon an unexpected verdure. Where the map indicates "Sha’naari Wastes" there is now an almost lush field of green grass and small trees. The Cenarion Expedition druids have established a small town in the old ruins, making it lively and homelike.  
  
"That must be a new Cenarion Post then. They are neutral regarding our factions... but I guess we shouldn't risk being recognized."  
  
"You already long for a soft bed that much, little prince?"  
  
"More like vegetables in my food. But I'll survive."  
  
"I know you’ve mastered spells to alter your looks, as have I. They won't last long, but an hour is enough for asking a room and sharing a neighbourly ale with the tree-huggers."  
  
"I only know a transform spell for my clothes."  
  
"Fine, I can do us both. Who would you like to be?"  
  
"Let me think... short dark hair and a red beard would be different enough."  
  
"So you want to be a pirate. Doesn't surprise me at all."  
  
Sylvanas casts the spell on them and makes herself look like a dark-haired human female. Anduin grins at her.  
  
"There's no guarantee someone couldn't see through these, but they'd have to be a warlock or a mage."  
  
They walk to the old draenei huts and are met with a friendly looking night elf druid. He bows at them.  
  
"Welcome to Cenarion Post, travellers. It's not often anyone visits here anymore. How can we help you?"  
  
"Well met, druid. We would like a supper and a room, if that's possible."  
  
"Indeed, we have an inn and huts for rent. Follow me, please. My name is Tola'thion."  
  
"Thank you so much. My name is Aren and this is my wife Talea." He feels Sylvanas jump at that and he smiles almost smugly to himself, not looking at her human-masked face. Her feelings ebb around annoyance and mild amusement, the latter making him feel warmth in his heart. She elbows his ribs as soon as the druid turns away to lead them.  
  
"Ow! Watch it, darling, I'm still sore from yesterday!"  
  
"Did you encounter wildlife on your voyage?" asks their host.  
  
"No, but we had to fend off some red orcs. Luckily we escaped unharmed."  
  
"You should stay on the road. Outland is safer now but some dangers still linger."  
  
"I know... we just wanted to ...see the old armory."  
  
"Tourists, are you? That's rare. But I guess this world has its interesting sights. You are heading to Shattrath?" Tola'thion shows them a small draenei hut with two doors closed with thick tapestry on both ends. It's cozy, with colorful carpets, lanterns with soothing pink light and pillows to sleep on.  
  
"Yes, we are. Oh, this will do nicely. Do you like it, dear?" He seems to enjoy taunting her when she can't but behave. It's almost time to heal her again and he has concluded rousing her ~~annoyance~~ spirits with flirting and teasing is the best way to derail her from the pain until they are alone and can use ...more direct methods. Sylvanas plays along coolly but he can feel her smouldering.  
  
"Yes, _sweetheart_. Although I doubt it is soundproofed."  
  
It's his turn to try and hide his feelings, in which he fails gloriously, deep red rising to his masked cheeks. The host elf coughs politely.

"Honeymooning, are you? Fortunately for you there are no other visitors presently. The inn can be found in that big main building uphill. You can pay the room there when you come for supper. Have a pleasant stay, lovebirds", he smiles, bows and walks back to whatever task they had interrupted. Sylvanas pushes the boy into their cabin and closes the curtain, dispelling their disguises with a flick of her wrist.  
  
"I think you owe me a good and thorough _wedding night”,_ she sneers. _“Darling."_  
  
He feigns surprise. ”Didn’t I …heal you enough this morning?”

Her fingers are already undressing him.  
  
”This one’s purely for pleasure… and for _marrying_ me there just now. I know you take your responsibilities very seriously.” A grin is yanking at the corner of his mouth. In the shade of the long eyelashes his gentle blue eyes are full of laughter.

”I've made my bed, it seems."

  
  
****

 

  
STORMWIND CITY

 _"I cannot believe this!_ Why leave now when the time he has dreamed of, a time of peace, is almost upon the Alliance?"

"Is it, truthfully? We all have heard the rumors of a menace rising from the depths and of the restless seas...” Genn glares at Vereesa angrily. She continues unfazed.

“I'm not saying he has fled because of that. His sense of duty is strong. He must have had a _very_ good reason.” _Saving my sister from whatever ails her, for example._

"Yes, but to outright _renounce the crown?_ Because this "vacation" isn't anything less than that! Their disappearing at the same time cannot be a coincidence. Unexplainable behaviour, but not a coincidence.”

Mathias Shaw looks grim. “I apologize for our lack of intel. There seemed to be no reason to search his rooms and we couldn’t have opened his personal scrolls unless we had known there was a dire emergency.”

“We should call Taelia Fordragon here, shouldn’t we? She’s officially the head of the kingdom now.” Velen tries to aim for a soothing yet firm tone in the volatile situation.

“She can still refuse.”

“Let’s take one step at a time, king Greymane.”

“Just when we had established some balance in this mess… Are you seriously claiming you had no prediction about this, prophet?”

“The visions have shown grand things in several possible futures for Anduin. None of them tell of this disappearance, and none of them could I discuss with anyone else than him. Our choices are still our own.”

“Fine, fine…” Genn looks even more gray than usual. He feels like retiring would be a good choice right about now, but his new position as an official regent or advisor for Bolvar’s daughter is too important. He turns to the nearest soldier, not really caring who. “Send for Miss Fordragon, and address her with reverence.” As an afterthought he barks: _“And no gossipping!”_

Turning to the others, pinching the bridge of his nose tiredly he sighs. “I can’t be the regent, the people would revolt if a worgen was placed to govern them. We need to convince young Fordragon that we all are here to help and guide her in this daunting task. We could also name _her_ regent for the time being. It sounds less drastic than to announce a new queen out of the blue.”

“I agree. A sound plan in a difficult situation.” 

“The people will talk and assume things nonetheless, whatever we do.The council meeting will be an emergency one dealing _solely_ about how to start looking for the Banshee. We don’t have many clues, practically none at all, but I dare say Lord Admiral Proudmoore might find out more than we have.”

Velen nods. _Anduin will have to succeed in his quest before that._

 

 


	17. A Pilgrimage to the Light, Redux

 

_A soothing light fills Anduin as he approaches the naaru. Slow musical chimes echo within his mind and, though a word is not uttered, he feels an assurance of safety. He is welcome in Shattrath City._

Sylvanas, on the other hand, doesn’t feel so welcome. The Light the huge otherworldly being is emitting burns through her soul, the pain increasing with every step taken towards it. Eventually she falls on her knees and tries to yell but her voice is gone.

Her lover feels it and turns back in alarm. For a moment he’s torn and doesn’t know what to do, then he casts a Holy shield around her with all the might of his heart poured into it, embracing the undead elf. Light within Light, yet his is different for her. It stops the torment and covers her from the radiating entity’s power.

“Like I didn’t have enough suffering of my own. Do we need to travel abroad to collect some more?”

“We’ll leave immediately if the protection breaks.”

They walk to the center of Shattrath City, beside a huge map above which A’dal is hovering. Anduin senses he doesn’t even have to explain himself. His open mind, the touch of power from K’iru inside him and him shielding Sylvanas tells the naaru everything.

_“Your power is truly formidable for a human, Anduin Wrynn. Prophet Velen is right to hold you in high esteem. You have yet to complete becoming Lightforged and your might is already that of a seasoned Exarch. K’iru has deemed you worthy of our boon and I agree, but my answer to your plea is the same. It is not possible for me to fulfil.”_

All color drains from Anduin’s face. Only the importance of protecting Sylvanas keeps him from dropping everything and just wailing in despair. Has this all been for naught?

“I told you, little lion. I’m a lost cause.”

“No. I refuse to give up.” Looking up at the naaru he addresses it with a clear voice. “If you won’t help us, then I humbly ask for your blessing, Master A’dal. I will protect her as long as I am able.”

_“You misunderstand, young human. The task you’ve chosen to bear is an important one and possibly carves a path for others to a new future. We will help you, if not in the way you expected.”_

There’s a jingle of magic and of unspoken words. A’dal focuses on Sylvanas and in the next instant she disappears from his arms with a sharp flash and a cry cut short. The young man exclaims in distress and is about to start protesting but then he sees two other naaru gather beside their leader.

_“She would not have withstood this.”_

He understands. The three beings of Light start to amass a spell so immense it makes Anduin tremble in anticipation. He’s very accustomed to the Light, the constancy and nature of it, but this is something of a cosmic magnitude.

When the spell hits him he feels like sprouting golden wings. Blinded, overwhelmed, in a state of bliss and might and _goodness_ he momentarily loses his bodily senses.

 

*****

 

Ted Galvin is feeling more than a wee bit nervous. He had stayed behind in Outland to avoid some unpleasantries at home like the debt he owes to a certain goblin in Booty Bay or having to choose which one of his girlfriends to marry. He has behaved well enough on this planet and had thought his troubles were behind him.

_She_ looked like trouble, in the form of the mightiest mage in all Azeroth and a darn attractive albeit intimidating blonde on top of that. Why was she here? There hadn’t been any hostilities or huge monsters in years. Ted eyed her flowing robes and magical staff apprehensively.

“Mister Galvin, is it? Your boss tells me you had seen two travellers camping out in the wastelands some days ago. Is this true?”

“Yes, I saw them... heh heh … I saw them alright.”

Jaina Proudmoore doesn’t like the implications in the worker’s tone. She gives the man a glare that would silence raving nagas. “Could you please take us to the exact spot?”

“O-of course, m’lady. It’s that way.” They all hop on horses the Honor Hold had lent them. Vereesa had wanted to accompany the mage and they have a small entourage of soldiers and a healer from Stormwind with them. Jaina interviews the workman while they ride.

“What can you tell us about those travellers? What did they look like, did they seem familiar in any way?”

“They weren’t from around here, if that’s what you mean, ma’am. The other, the woman had a hood over her face. She was curvy but small… you know…” Ted draws an hourglass shape in the air with his hands and grins lecherously. He glances at Vereesa quickly. “A bit like her but… bustier. Not sure if she were human or elf, mind.”

“ _I see.”_ Jaina’s voice could freeze Ragnaros’ left foot. “Go on, what about the other one?”

“He was a young man, a good-looking feller, blond hair. Nicely built too. And _very_ well endo---”

A frosty silencing spell halts the man in the middle of his chuckle and Jaina nods.

“Thank you, Mister Galvin. Clap your hands twice when we are at that campsite.”

When they arrive Jaina dismounts and searches around the remains of a campfire and a pile of rotting boar carcasses. There are imprints of tent poles. She casts faint spells around and after a moment frowns.

“I truly dread to do this but I think I must. Mister Galvin, will you let us see into your memory of what happened here? It will not hurt at all, I promise.” She does not remove the silencing spell, however. The worker looks around the group, especially at Vereesa and one female soldier. Then he nods while still looking uncertain, cheeks burning red. Jaina motions him to come to her and kneel down.

“I’m sure I will regret this, but here goes…” The master mage concentrates a spell on the man’s head while opening a fuzzy vision projection for all of them to see.

_There’s Anduin, it’s unmistakably him. He’s wearing brown travel clothes made of leather. A light stubble is covering his chin and cheeks. His face is red, he seems baffled and nervous and his eyes are looking downwards. Two hands are holding onto his backside, lithe hands. He seems to be trying to move away from the grip but cannot. Then the gaze of the vision moves and -_

Everyone in the group gasps at the same time. One or two of them might have ended up in little moans.

_There’s a hooded person, judging by the shape of the lips, the small nose and the curve of the chest, a female. Not much else is in sight, the brown leather hood is large and covers the rest of her face, hair and ears. But it does not cover what she is doing to him. She’s moving her head slowly backwards, releasing inch after inch his thick unmentionable body part out of her mouth. After it’s completely revealed in its appreciable length, it bobs slightly, full erection keeping it horizontal. The movement of her hooded head indicates that she looks up at Anduin and says something, after which she licks the head of his manhood before swallowing it again. The prince looks like he’s attempting to fight it -_

“Take your hands off him, can’t you see he’s trying to -- “

_But then he just raises his hands slowly, not taking his eyes off her, and pulls a similar hood over his head. He glances around the environment and a fraction of a second before the hood hides his face completely there’s a smile, a playful little smirk on his lips._

Jaina ends the vision abruptly. For a moment the silence is heavier than Neltharion’s footprint.

“I think… I’ve seen quite enough.”

Vereesa’s cheeks are glowing pink. She inhales deeply. “Yes, definitely… enough.” Poor Ted Galvin holds his hands over his crotch.

“May I go now, m’lady? Only I have this… task… job... the boss asked me to do today.”

“Please, do. There’s just one more thing I need from you, if you don’t mind.” Not waiting for his consent Jaina places her hand against his forehead. There’s a quiet _zap_ and the man shakes his head like a dog its fur after a shower. He looks down his body in confusion and then at Jaina, eyes wide, not knowing why he’s there and in that condition.

_“Thank you_ for your invaluable help, Mister Galvin. I will make sure you get a reward for this escort. You are free to go.” He bows hurriedly at her, bows at the whole party as well and very awkwardly mounts his horse and gallops away towards Honor Hold.

_Don’t know what that was all about but definitely gonna make a detour before returning to work._

Jaina inhales deeply in annoyed contemplation. “The only thing I’m happy about in all this mess is that Genn didn’t come here with us. _That_ would have been too much for his heart, he regards Anduin as his son. What on Azeroth should we do now? He has committed a serious crime helping her escape.” She frowns. “Although we still can’t be _entirely_ certain that the woman was Sylvanas. The evidence is only circumstantial. I cannot even be sure if that was an elf or a human.”

Vereesa clears her throat. “Well… that’s… The man said she was about my size. And that was definitely one of my sister’s… _favorite_ things to do to men when she was still living. I sort of recognize... her style. We used to share experiences over a glass of Suntouched.”

“Indeed? Well, then. We have some decisions to make.” Jaina turns towards the group.

“Soldiers! Prince Anduin Wrynn might not be your High King anymore, but you _will_ either swear to take what you’ve seen here to your grave or come see me in the evening for a memory wipe. Is that understood?”

Everyone nods. One of the soldiers raises his hand. “Permission to keep the vision for a few days?”

 

*****

 

Anduin Wrynn regains consciousness in an unfamiliar place. He’s on a floating rock, the Twisting Nether below him. He looks around, feels Sylvanas close by, starts towards her. The rock is a small island detached from the main landmass of Netherstorm. He can see the mainland far in the horizon.

He finds her hunched between some rocks. There’s a huge, old Legion portal before her. It’s humming. 

_That shouldn’t be active anymore._  

She’s breaking apart. The young man feels the power of the naaru’s boon crackling in his fingers like lightning, yet it’s purely of Holy Light. He embraces her with his arms and with the Light, pressing his cheek against hers. 

“What happened?” 

Her voice is gruff. “A’dal showed me why I had changed so much in the recent years. I should tell you about it, and about… _my death.”_

“There’s more to it than what Arthas did to you?”

“A lot more. But first we should go through _that.”_ Sylvanas gets up with some difficulty and picks up her backpack.

_“...What?”_

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you _Ryuujin_ and _Nevijek_ for inspiration on this chapter ;)  
>  I just retconned Sylvanas’ youth to smut, didn't I? Oops sorry 'bout that  
> This trope of mine to start chapters/paragraphs with either of them waking up confused is going too far but it still amuses me xD


	18. Nether and Void

 

AN UNKNOWN WORLD, TWISTING NETHER

 

Anduin paces around the cave until he can come up with a rational sentence. “Are you saying you are _unable_ to die?”

“No. It’s worse. I had a small group of these powerful beings from the Shadowlands, the Val’kyr, sworn to me. They sacrificed themselves resurrecting me, literally poured their life essence into my dead corpse. Twice. And perished while doing so.”

The priest feels her sorrow and guilt painfully. “I had heard of them but I had no idea…” Something nags at him in the back of his mind.

“Did you say you have died _twice_ after ...him _?”_

“On two occasions three of the Val’kyr have killed themselves for me.”

“Who was it the first time? No, I mean the second…?” Sylvanas averts her gaze towards something in the distance of her memories.

“...The knowledge that him finally being dead didn’t give me peace nor my lost life back. So, in a way, Arthas again.”

His silence smells of worry, and a look of empathy flicks across his young face.

_“No._ You didn’t…?”

“Yes, I did. And this is where A’dal’s revelation comes in.”

“Tell me.” Anduin sits there on the ground, facing her.

“You’ve heard, of course, the constant news of a force rising from inside Azeroth itself. Not her lifeblood, not Azerite, but something twisted and dark. There were bits and pieces of rumours at first, but lately so much more. The seas. The cultist and faceless activity in Kul Tiras and Darkshore...“ Her face twists in agony. He takes her cold hands in his - like he were the older of them, the one who takes care of the weak, lost and broken - and intuitively lets the Light flow through their touch to her whole being. He is brimming with Holy power, the naaru having all blessed him just before they departed for this new realm. It feels good to let some of it stream out.

“When I… killed myself in Icecrown, I found out I wouldn’t be ascending to the Light like I assume most living will. But then again… I haven’t been properly alive in years.”

”What do you mean by -”

”Let me finish, little lion. Unless we are followed I assume we have nothing as abundantly as _time_  in this place.” He nods for her to continue. His healing soothes her spiritual pain, but it never wipes the feelings away - she is overcome by sadness and an oppressive sense of loss. As a regular undead she didn’t have to face them so directly - and now she doesn’t know what she is.

”I still feel the same, or have felt lately since some _unnamed priest_ decided to try his powers on me and awakened my dormant emotions. Arthas was dead, I was empty and barely living. I died there, and what awaited me - and still does - was pure endless agony, never-ending spiritual torture in a cold void. I don’t know if it’s a realm like Shadowlands or like my sister’s Void or like the Nether. It might have been one of those or some other plane entirely. It might have even been a vision, I have no way of knowing. All I know is that I was floating there, for a time that felt like eternity, feeling nothing but fear and anguish. There was no Light to save me.”

Anduin doesn’t know what to say. The naaru had declared as much if a bit ambiguously.

”So, there I drifted, wanting nothing more than to _really_ die, but that was it - that _was_ my death, no peaceful rest for my rotten soul. In the midst of that hopelessness the Val’kyr appeared and by then I would have taken _anything_ instead of that empty torment. One of them took my place - may she know peace - in exchange for me binding myself to the rest of their kind, thus freeing them of the new Lich King.”

Sylvanas gets up from her hunched position, looking out of their hiding place. The unfamiliar night sky is full of swirling distant lights. Her red eyes seem somehow dimmer.

“When A’dal sent me to Netherstorm I felt something being ripped off me. I was told that there had been a link inside me to a Twilight God, to a sleeping ageless monster deep under the surface of Azeroth. And that…” Her voice breaks. Anduin cannot hide his shock.

“But… C’Thun and Yogg-Saron were defeated years ago!”

“There seem to be more of them, dear prince. Apparently my darkness was the perfect handle to grab onto, to slither inside me and… Don’t think I assume that this liberates me of my crimes. I had my own volition through it all, I know this. I might have been able to fight it had I known the dark urges weren’t my own. But I indulged in them, let them grow and give me twisted pleasure in displays of power and violence. It was _me_ doing all of it. It was me who decided to give in to the mirthless vanity and burn Teldrassil. How much of it was influenced by the deranged whispers of the Old One - I can never know.”

Tears fall on Anduin’s face. “I believe you wouldn’t do anything like that now.”

“Part of it I still might. What drove me into some of my actions was the absolute necessity to avoid death, that particular easeless death designed for me and probably for all of the Forsaken. I would still do mad things not to end up in that… nothingness.”

She drops another piece of wood into their campfire, watching it sizzle, the lingering life in it burning away for their comfort.

“The Old Gods seem to be rising again and I might not have been the only target for manipulation. And yet, this knowledge won’t free me from the punishment so many people want for me - justifiably. Even if this testimony somehow mattered, only I saw it. A’dal might never reveal it to anyone else.”

“I will corroborate your words.”

“You’re being naïve again, little lion. Once they find out our relationship your word is as good as a bound banshee’s oath.”

 

 

*****

 

They have been in the new world for about two days now, as far as they are able to feel the flow of time. The days and nights seem longer here than on Azeroth and the stars are different. There are two moons circling this planet, and they make the sky resemble that of the broken Draenor, yet it’s definitely different.

After stepping through the old Legion portal in Netherstorm they emerged into a serene place. It wasn’t unlike Terokkar Forest, less somber with a dash of sunlight. Later they would discover, from the clear signs in the landscape, that this was a world the Legion had found and conquered but not thoroughly deformed. It was now slowly healing from the devastation, there were already some wildlife and flora around. The air was temperate enough to be comfortable, only the nights were a bit chilly. They had found drinkable water soon enough and their rations lasted for days. Sylvanas wouldn’t eat until they found game animals or other food.

The next day on a hunting trip she saw some birds eating this peculiar-looking fruit from a tree. She decided it was edible for humans as well and picked some. Feeling faint nostalgia she hunted small animals resembling rabbits and brought one back to their camp. Their roles were set naturally. Anduin would provide Light and spiritual sustenance, Sylvanas would do the hunting. He would cook - he had learned that in Pandaria and wasn’t half bad; she would prepare the skins for later use.

Caution had made them travel further off from the portal to hide from possible pursuers. They found an empty cave and made camp there, putting wards around it even before they made fire.

“We are going to live in these same clothes for all eternity until we get out of here or until I manage to kill enough of those tiny creatures for leather, whichever happens first. How marvellous.”

“Didn’t you know a spell to clean dirt off clothes? I know Jaina did.”

“I do. It’s just the knowledge that annoys me.”

They talk a lot. Anduin shares his concerns about most of his people probably declaring him a betrayer or a coward. The decision to denounce the crown was a heavy one, his father’s memory as well as the consequences of there being no natural heir weighing on it. Letting go of the position he left some part of Varian behind. Would he think him a deserter, a weakling again like he perhaps though in his darkest hours when Anduin was younger and wouldn’t follow his path as a warrior? In the end, he doesn’t know what else he could have done, so he might as well focus on the bright sides - like being able to end the war ...and remove the war criminal from Azeroth.

He feels they shouldn’t joke about it but they take their comfort where they can.

Sylvanas tells him about her first death, what it was like to lose her autonomy and self-respect after the acts she was made to commit under the command of the former prince of Lordaeron. Her corpse was kept in deep ice and inside a magic shield, mainly to taunt her - and that had been Arthas’ error in this matter: her body was well-preserved, practically pristine when she claimed it back, save for the sword wound in the chest. Her occupying it keeps it within the narrow space between life and decay.

She also talks about how her dark rangers probably still assume their queen has an elaborate plan to infiltrate the Alliance by getting herself captured. Although, for how long they keep that faith is uncertain. She tells about her silent message to Nathanos when Anduin had carried her away from her world. That makes the young prince thoughtful for a while, and then he decides to confess.

“When I entered your Quel’Thalas house, I was as uncertain as I probably looked like. But as soon as I learned about your sensitivity to the Light I decided I would try to make you realize your errors. I wanted your genuine remorse, not just lock you in a dungeon. I had no knowledge it was possible, you need to understand this.”

“I know, you righteous little _brat_ \- you had _a plan_ and by sheer incomprehensible fool’s luck it all happened almost as you had sketched. Almost.” Her voice is softer, her eyes looking at their campfire.  

“Well, if I’m being honest, I somehow left blank the part where I give you up to the authorities.”

“You forgot _you_ were that authority.”

They smile, glancing at each other. After a moment he speaks again.

“You said you felt the wish to… die again, because I had woken up your emotions. Is there anything more I can do to help, to make you feel better?”

“Are you asking seriously or flirting?” Anduin laughs softly at that. He has matured so much in these months, and the stubble he’s sporting now for the lack of sharp enough blade isn’t a bad addition at all. The sight of it makes Sylvanas purr. She likes how he has still managed to keep his honesty, benevolence and that gentle, almost elf-like spirit in all the hassle and conflict he has gone through. Even when he talks about the Alliance leaders he has left behind she hears no bitterness. There is only sorrow.

“I am serious, my lady. You know I can feel you.” He is worried, she notices.

“You do a good job making up for your _mistake_ as it is, with the Light and with your body. I will let you know if I want more of either of those.”

He feels something else behind her banter, but he won’t press further. _She’ll tell me when she’s ready._ Sylvanas changes the subject.

“I think you should learn, or re-learn, Shadow magic, if we are to stay here for longer. I have sensed some Fel residue around here - there’s not a lot and it’s weak, but just in case.”

“Indeed. It wouldn’t hurt to train and to get ready for any eventuality. Let’s hope the boon of the naaru doesn’t disagree with the Shadow.”

“Since there’s so much time in our hands, I have a suggestion what you could do with yours for the next two hours or so.”

”Do tell.”

”Turn on the Light and I’ll show you.”

 

****

 

In Shattrath Jaina Proudmoore understands why she shouldn’t hunt the former royalties anymore. After refusing to accept it despite the knowledge, she learns that she cannot, even if she wished.

”The way is shut?”

The naaru only emits distant bell-like sounds.

 

 


	19. Relative Distances

 

AN UNKNOWN WORLD, TWISTING NETHER

“Look, I know you haven’t been feeling well lately. It’s been going on for some time now, you know I can feel it. I don’t understand why you won’t talk to me about it. We talk about everything.”

“But I do talk about it. I don’t know what more do you need to hear. You heal me almost daily, your Light is stronger than it ever was on Azeroth, and it keeps me more or less in balance. True, it also stings more than before and at times I feel…”

Anduin combs her long blonde hair with a very primitive excuse of a brush. Her violet-grey skin looks almost shimmering when it’s still wet from bathing in their favorite pond. The day is warm, the sun and the smaller moon high in the sky.

“Yes?”

A sharpened dagger appears from the pile of leather clothes where Sylvanas had left it. She turns and with a familiar teasing smile guides the young human to sit on the same rock she just rose from. The lithe undead elf climbs astride his lap and, hugging his waist with her legs, slowly starts to shorten his auburn beard with the weapon. It cannot be shaved off completely with the crude tool - she doesn’t complain but he sometimes does - but she tries to trim it as short and neat as possible. She leans against his shoulder with her arm while concentrated on the task, lips almost touching his cheek.

“You know I don’t like to talk about my weaknesses. I do trust you mean well, little lion, but it’s difficult for me.”

“I need to know so I can adjust the spells better, if that’s possible. Please, tell me.”

“Fine, fine. You know that I have almost completely lost my undead powers. You can even hear it in my voice. I tried some weeks ago - or was it months, I’m not certain - and I can’t summon the banshee form anymore. It’s like it simply isn’t there. That’s why I have been so keen on practicing Shadow and Arcane, to master at least some spell power.”

“By the Light! Why would you even try to summon it?”

“Curiosity? Well, there _was_ one of those big animals, the one with tusks, so I thought to fill our supplies…” She’s teasing, he knows, but half of it is true.

“You shouldn’t go taunting the big ones, especially if you have weakened. You know I worry.”

“Don’t patronize me, young man. I’m still a damn good ranger”, Sylvanas says, the blade dangerously close to his lips. She feels his cock stir under her, bumping up softly between her buttocks when it swells.

“But I’m just trying to serve you, my queen.” His pupils have darkened and a smile bordering on smug flashes on his handsome face. She feels the lovely, familiar longing awaken in her. His healing hands rise gently to her waist, gripping it steadily as he pushes his hips up so she can feel his erection in its whole length.

“Oh, if I had known you _like_ danger…” She finishes trimming his facial hair and puts down the knife. His eyes smoulder a purple flame that has nothing to do with his arousal.

“Oh no you don’t!” She laughs and slaps his cheek.

Mind Control doesn’t usually work on the undead but after an arduous training period Anduin had managed to infuse that particular Shadow spell with his potent Holy. It was one of his own experiments, and since the bunnies - they call the little animals thus - served as good test subjects only to some extent he had one day tried it on Sylvanas. The endgame had not been pretty but the test was a success, insofar as making her dance was any use to anyone.

It had been worth his bruises. She had felt only surprise and annoyance, not fear nor rage, and that had been both a relief and a source of deep happiness for Anduin. He had hugged her through the beating, apologized repeatedly and wept of joy.

He should have thought twice about entering uninvited to the mind of someone so scarred by a similar violence in the past. Yet her trust in him was now greater than the memory of that nightmare.

He smiles wide, taunting. “Admit it, you _love_ to dance, you’re just so vain that --”

His banter is cut short and it morphs into a breathless chuckle as the intentionally provoked elf shifts, fishes his erect member from under her and traps it between their bare bodies in the embrace.

“Of course I do. I will dance on _this.”_ She slides herself against its length, already wet, making him sigh in pleasure. When she lifts herself and lets it slide in her Anduin has switched from Shadow to Light, his supporting hands radiating Holy on her skin.

“Promise me not to put yourself in danger, Sylvanas.” She loves to hear her name on his lips and it almost makes her comply. Instead she kisses him, cradling his head in her hands, pushing her fingers into his long golden hair. The priest melts against her cold lips. They rock against each other listening to the other’s emotions and sighs, their shared bliss rising slowly towards its peak.

The years on this isolated little haven have made their connection evolve and their awareness of the other reach levels nearing mind reading. Their mutual understanding is as deep as it can be between an undead and a living human.

That doesn’t mean there aren’t any secrets left. Vaguely Anduin realizes she has again avoided the point of his earlier question.

 

****

 

STORMWIND CITY, AZEROTH

“Light knows we could use Anduin’s help now”, Genn sighs. Jaina hears in his voice that the initial rage after hearing the shocking news has finally subsided. The grey worgen looks tired and sad, the current world situation not letting him sleep much. They walk towards the council room in the Keep, haste in their steps.

“I know. But this is apparently what the fate wanted for him, and for _her_ as well. You know me, I almost tried to force myself through the rifts of time and space to go look for him, but the naaru… A’dal was convinced he would be fine.” She shudders, trying not to think about the vision they caught of him in Hellfire.

“That is some consolation, but I wish he were fine _here._ I mean, it was unavoidable that _someone_ would catch his attention eventually, but of all the creatures---” He sighs deeply and doesn’t continue the thought. “I had hoped it would have been young Taelia, you know?”

“Ssshh, let’s not go into that now. Queen Fordragon is doing well, I assume?”

“As well as anyone in these terrible times. She’s a force of nature in optimism, that is for certain. I hope Velen will have some insight on the Empire once he finally wakes up from his deep sleep. We were supposed to adjourn last week.”

They step into the council room and see that the prophet is there, wide awake. The void elf leader Alleria Windrunner and her husband Turalyon of the Lightforged Army are present as well. The night elves have chosen Shandris Feathermoon as their ambassador while they still rebuild the New Darnassus in Ashenvale. Queen Taelia smiles at them and nods, still looking fresh and almost girly even while wearing the ceremonial armor. She insisted on a royal paladin’s battle gear instead of any formal dress, and it suits her perfectly. Master Mathias Shaw is talking to High Thane Falstad Wildhammer, who represents the Ironforge council.

“Grim tidings indeed, friends”, the High Thane grunts and nods to the last arriving leaders. Genn and Jaina greet everyone briefly, then get to the point.

“My queen, I suggest we hear immediately what the prophet has to say, if that’s all right?”

“I was about to ask that too. Go on, Velen, please.”

“Friends. As you know, the visions are never the most precise or trustworthy sources of information, often appearing obscure or cryptic. However during my time in the deep meditation there were a few themes that recurred so often it led me to believe in them somewhat more. I have seen Anduin fight the Black Empire alongside our forces, and these two things were the most frequent in the visions: Him being back on Azeroth and the Old Gods attacking us. I would say the latter is almost a certainty given all these news and phenomena.” Many of the listeners sigh in relief and hope for their former king’s possible return as well as in grave anticipation towards the cataclysmic future. Velen hesitates, glances at Alleria, then at the worgen king.

“There is something more.”

“Well?” Genn barks.

“In almost all of the visions of this event I see Sylvanas Windrunner by his side, fighting the Faceless together with him.”

Queen Taelia Fordragon ponders whether or not to try and cut the silence with a sword. But she’s more of a hammer wielder herself.

 

*****

 

“When is the anniversary exactly, what does your little calendar say?”

Anduin walks to the huge slab of rock he started using as a timekeeping aid the first week of their arrival on this unknown planet. There are hundreds of little scrape marks covering it in neat lines.

“We’ve been here precisely five years in two weeks’ time.” In Azerothian count it would be even more. The days here seemed longer than at home when they arrived, but now this cycle is their new normal and they’ve forgotten what it felt like.

“Should you bake a cake?” Sylvanas inclines her head and grins. They couldn’t do anything about their gentle imprisonment once they noticed the Legion portal had dimmed and gone silent. Over the years they tried a few arcane tricks on it and even attempted to create a new portal themselves, but any magic involving connections outside the realm behaved like they were warriors, not spellcasters: it just fizzled out.

“I miss cakes sometimes.”

She just smiles at that. The former High King has bouts of homesickness and sadness from time to time, and she has helplessly let him be until it wears off. There’s nothing they can do about it except to endure and live on.

Was this what the naaru though was good for them, the best for Azeroth? Were they meant to be locked away from their home for the rest of their existence, pushed aside to be useless and irrelevant while possibly abysmal events unfolded on their homeplanet? There was no way of knowing what had transpired in their absence - had the Old Gods risen, would there be a habitable planet to return to if by some miracle they someday found a way back?

During their first year the yearning back home and the weight of the isolation had been grim. Sylvanas adapted somewhat to the solitude and the feeling of exclusion; it was nothing new to her, after all. Anduin however did not. Despite his inborn optimism he grew sullen and unhappy having no connection to his homeworld. They had argued and disagreed and clashed against each other’s thick head so much that had they been any less peculiar pair and on an inhabited world with lots of company and dwellings to choose from, they would have ended their relationship with mutual shouting.

Despite the misery even in their darkest times he never blamed her. Not once. She did verbally accuse him of several grave mistakes but in her heart she didn’t mean any of it, not really.

Being as dependent on each other for survival as they were, the worst periods of their falling out had been arranged so that Sylvanas made camp somewhere in the woods - not too far but out of line of sight, and hearing - and only when she _absolutely_ couldn’t bear anymore the oppressive agony that still haunted her, she snuck back at the cave. She would stop outside the doorway, her pride not letting her show herself to him, knowing that Anduin felt her arrival way before he could hear her. She would lean on the rock and feel his Light slowly strengthening and extending towards her until it healed enough for her to survive.

Later he had told her how awful it had been to feel her tears and her loneliness, but he had felt numb and useless at the time. The period had ended in an explosive quarrel of epic proportions - Sylvanas had finally snapped - where they both had revealed all their anger, bitterness, hopelessness and all the other feelings they both could very well sense from the other but couldn’t cope nor help with for their own similar discomfort.

In the midst of that yelling they also told how much they missed the other. The mending started right there and then. Their physical _atonement_ had been the stuff of legends and had lasted for days. It was fortunate their home was made of stone, otherwise there would have been damages. It was also fortunate for his stamina that Anduin was of a healer class.

At the end of the first year they were inseparable.

”I will bring you the red berries, my king. I know it’s not the same as pastry, but you know how it is. The merchants visit this neighborhood so infrequently.”

He smiles. ”The site is near the beasts. And far. You don’t have to.”

She glances at the calendar. ”Yes, you’re right, _just look at the time._ I couldn’t possibly fit the trip in my busy schedule.” He can feel there’s no fighting her when she has decided something, even a thing this trivial. He nods.

“I did promise myself a training session today, I’ve been lazy these last couple of days - maybe I’ll join you later?”

“Don’t make me wait too long, little lion.”

  


 


	20. Time and Time Again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Everything will be fine.)

AN UNKNOWN WORLD, TWISTING NETHER

Striding through the nowadays familiar path towards the fields where the biggest beasts sometimes roam and where the rare sweet berries grow Sylvanas is relieved to be out there alone for a change. She doesn’t particularly want to deceive or evade her lover, not anymore. But her condition seems to be worsening, if very slowly, and Anduin senses something is amiss. She doesn’t want him to feel any misery ever again, so she tries her mightiest not to let him realize the gravity of her situation. If she told him, he would just do everything in his power to cure her, fuss about it and eventually succumb to sorrow for the rest of their time together.

Along with gradually losing her undead powers she has felt _death_ nearing her. Being an undead she can tell this isn’t merely fear of death or paranoia. It isn’t a physical phenomenon; her body is as well preserved as it had been when she claimed it from the ice. The feeling of foreboding is like a lucid nightmare, like a lingering knowledge from another dimension. She feels weaker and so despondent she cannot quite care about the importance of remaining in good health or being prepared for a rescue that quite likely will never happen - yet she does everything diligently, feigning hope. She hunts and crafts; trains ceaselessly the Arcane on her own and the Shadow magic with Anduin. She has grown to love their talks and the sex is still amazing.

But the light in her eyes, be it red and unnatural, is fading.

Her reaction to his healing, that is the biggest sign that something is off. She needs it like a medicine to keep the balance, yet it leaves her feeling raw, worn out, with a diluted soul. The days of their breach had shown she could endure some time without the Holy, but not endlessly and definitely not permanently.

What has changed? She doesn’t know.

She emerges from the woods into a clearing that’s almost completely lush with greenery; here and there are barren spots where the Fel still lingers. Surveying their new realm they had found small open rifts where the chaotic energies of the void leaked in. She had made maps of the locations but they sometimes shifted, sometimes new ones appeared. They had concluded that the Legion’s attack had wounded the planet’s protective shield.

Now there is a new tear in the shield of the world, very close to the place where she’s going.

 

*****

 

Anduin wakes up alone, having tired himself again with his experiments on mixing the Holy with the Shadow. _Did she leave without me again? She should stop doing that. I should have pleaded her to wait or to come get me._ Her pride and stubbornness haven’t changed that much.

He packs a bag and decides to follow her - at least he assumes she left for the area where they usually have found most fruit and berries. It’s an hour’s walk - as far as they can estimate an hour here. The flow of time in this world sometimes still baffles them.

In the woods near the end of the path he feels her cry of agony. It’s stronger than ever before, even when she was losing her mind in Quel’Thalas it wasn’t like this. There’s an edge to it that tears at Anduin’s heart. He starts running.

 

*****

 

It’s too late to turn back. Sylvanas finds herself trapped between the rift and the biggest of the beasts, towering well above her head. The bovine animals had always been fairly peaceful, but this one has been visibly warped into something monstrous by the leakage, seething Fel and tendrils of some other dark energy, enraged and mad. She’s put a dozen of arrows in its hide but they seem to do nothing.

Teeth clenching she summons an Arcane-Shadow spell to at least try and get it to move so she can run to safety. Her powers are nowhere near what they used to be but she’s still very good in both schools. Holy attacks might work better on this shade-mutated monster but that’s not an option for her.

_Why did I have to leave on my own again?_

The spell hits the beast but all it does is make it angrier. It charges towards her with a speed unnatural to its size. Sylvanas dodges and jumps over its head but she has only a narrow space for moving - she has to avoid touching let alone falling into the void rift that curves behind her. The beast’s huge tusk catches her skin and she drops to the ground, gets up, glances at the wound. It feels strange and there’s a swirl of that dark energy around it.

Her focus shifted for a fraction of a second is enough. The thick tusk of the monster pierces her chest and she calls him, calls her lover with all the powers she has left in her mind. Ink black tendrils slither inside her and what would have been shrugged off as a mere flesh wound by the Dark Lady has an entirely different effect to her weakened present form.

_Such a frivolous thing._

It doesn’t even take long.

Lady Sylvanas Windrunner dies.

 

*****

 

Anduin feels it and he almost falls over running towards the field, urgency giving him wings. The void-warped beast stands huffing near where she lies. The force of the Light he summons upon the poor animal makes any regular town purge pale in comparison. Sylvanas had been right, Holy works against it and the huge creature regains its old self a moment before it dies, the darkness leaving it in a visible whirl that is sucked into the rift.

“Why did you leave me ---oh, Light - “

Suffocating in his grief Anduin puts his hands over her chest, patches the wound, exorcises the void energy. Her eyes are white and unseeing.

A movement or perhaps a shift in the air on his left makes him turn his head sharply.

Sylvanas is there. The priest can see her parted soul as clearly as anyone else’s who has recently died. He feels the same suffering he’s been healing her for over the past five years but now, while he’s watching, tears clouding his vision, it expands into unbearable magnitude. Her soul twitches and flickers.

“No, no, no, don’t go there - “

What he doesn’t register is that her soul isn’t a banshee. It has her appearance as she was in life but since that’s almost how he has always seen her it goes unnoticed. Anduin doesn’t give himself time to waste on anything else than the spell he starts to accumulate. No, not a mere spell. A _cataclysm_ of Holy energy. Resurrecting an undead would not be possible for him even in less abnormal circumstances, so anything modest won’t be enough now.

His love for her burns as a force of its own when he reaches for the Light, reaches inside himself and swears no ounce of his power is allowed to rest in this moment. His soul travels through the boundaries of eternity, praying for the Light with more resolve than ever.

The conjoined boon of the four naaru unlocks inside him and all he feels, sees, tastes, breathes is the Light. Unbeknownst to him he reaches the Great Dark Beyond through the open unstable rift and draws the attention of the naaru that still reside there.

In Azeroth’s orbit the Vindicaar detects a peculiar surge of power in the Nether. It’s near a small purified Legion world they have prior knowledge of because it’s one of the many where Turalyon and Alleria had fought.

”Come, look at this reading.”

 

*****

 

Here it is, her final merging with the everlasting torment. Without the barrier of her body Sylvanas can feel it bite into her parted soul, raw and violent. She can sense Anduin near, mourning her, radiating the Light with a blinding force. While she drifts away the dying screams of the night elves in the World Tree surround her.

_I deserve this._

The priest reaches for her soul, her real core, bypassing the curse Arthas had left, instinctively dispelling it. He pulls _her_ back, purified, free. All her undead years Sylvanas had merely _possessed_ her own body, unable to fuse her banshee soul into it completely.

Maybe it was something A’dal did, maybe it’s Anduin’s love for her; it’s uncertain what, if any one thing alone, causes it exactly. But what he is able to do now, while the Holy Light forges his soul anew in a blinding brightness, is something only few could accomplish.

The Light stitches the wounds, revives the cells, infuses the preserved corpse with its soul.

Time passes.

 

*****

 

Sylvanas Windrunner wakes up, confused, the inhaled air burning her lungs for the first time in decades. She opens her eyes. They are not red anymore.

Anduin’s golden eyes look back at her.

 

 


	21. Mending Connections

 

 

AN ABANDONED LEGION WORLD, TWISTING NETHER

It’s like they meet for the first time. Even with their shared years the instinctual familiarity is gone, the fundamental change in both of them makes them feel like two strangers.

There’s not much time to dwell on that. Sylvanas feels like she’s drowning, but in drought, and it takes a while for her to remember what the suffocating feeling is. Even her voice is nearly gone.

_“Water.”_

Anduin had diligently packed a bag with him like he always does. You never know when you need to stay a night in the woods or revive a newly reborn high elf. He fetches a flask and slowly, carefully pours some drops of water in her mouth. Her red lips open, dry tongue reaching for the liquid.

“Easy now, your body isn’t used to this.”

It’s true - even in painful thirst the reaction to water for the first time in decades is violently rejecting. She retches, gut totally empty.

“Let me take you home, we’ll figure out what kind of healing and nutrition you need.” He lifts her in his arms like she weighed nothing. His touch feels unfamiliar - not the manner he does it but how he radiates Light in a new way and how she now feels everything more vividly than in ages. Even in her frailty and lack of energy Sylvanas can feel the near immortality in his aura.

“You just… _Lightforged_ yourself there?”

“I think it was the naaru. Somehow.”

Her recovery takes time. In the next weeks she slowly relearns to ingest food and water. Her body goes through a profound transformation: The natural elven color returns to her skin, her cheeks get a rosy tint, the water she drinks and the meat she eats morph into a blood flow inside her veins. The proportions of her body stay the same but the life in her gives her a beautiful touch of softness.

It wasn’t until now that Sylvanas realizes how _silent_ being an undead had been. The flow of blood rushes in her ears; she fears the gurgling of her stomach might wake Anduin up at night. And the beating of her heart is deafening.

The change in her reaction to the Holy magic is two-edged. It now heals her like it normally would any elf, even though the Lightforged priest has to go through a series of careful tests until he finds the right volume. His powers are so much higher than they used to be - and she isn’t an undead and certainly not numb anymore. If everything had felt four times stronger as a Light-treated undead, her sensitivity is now tenfold compared to that.

But the _special effect_ of his spells is gone, or at least she thinks so, in passing. Maybe it’s her recovering state - her body wouldn’t give priority to something as non-essential as sexuality, nor would her mind, really.

 _I don’t even know whether or not we’ll continue together, now._ Even with all they have been through and with the responsibility Anduin might feel - like he’d married her -  neither of them feel close anymore like they did just weeks ago. They act accordingly - talk only about practical or light subjects, treat the other with respect, politeness and kindness, the same way they would any amiable acquaintance. There’s a soft, almost sweet melancholy in the air, a goodbye to their past together.

The positive sides of the new situation outweigh the sadness very soon. They often find the other watching in silence, smiling.

He guards her while she sleeps, searching for aches or cells in need of healing. _She’s so unbelievably beautiful._ This is how he had seen her through the eyes of a lover, but the real thing, this living high elf is so much more.

Hearing her steady heartbeat at night moves him to tears.

Sylvanas is frustrated in her weakness - now that she’s alive by this unlikely miracle a new burning need has arisen in her mind: The need to use this redeemed life for the reconciliation of her former crimes. And not in the way of going to prison for them let alone die yet another time - no, that would be a total waste.

_I need to make it right. But how?_

 

*****

 

THE VINDICAAR, NEAR AZEROTH, EXACT LOCATION UNKNOWN

“I haven’t talked about this to anyone else besides you and Turalyon. I happened to be here when the reading came.”

“So, you know that world - is it a safe place?” Vereesa asks, watching the void flicker under her big sister’s skin.

“It was when we left it. There were some native animals but not predators if I recall right. The Legion usually bombed the worlds’ shields so there might be some open rifts - and that is what I suspect let this signal through to the Vindicaar.”

“Well, our last clues to Anduin’s and our sister’s destination was a shut Fel portal in Outland. It fits. I’m not sure if I should dare to hope, but my heart says we should follow this. Who else could it be?”

“My husband feels the same. We are planning on keeping this trip a secret but I will inform some necessary parties like the SI:7.”

“Will you include Jaina?”

Alleria tilts her head. “After what you told me you saw in Hellfire… I don’t think so. If we happen upon yet another scene like that his _aunt figure_ isn’t the best audience.”

“Neither are we, but at least we know Sylvanas - one less person we’d embarrass.” They share a chuckle. Still, Vereesa looks solemn.

“She was in a very weak condition when they eloped. It seemed he had been able to keep her from the affliction so far. But…it’s been six months. I fear what this surge of Light might mean…”

“I know. But we have already lost her, you know this. You’re too soft, Little Moon.”

 

*****

 

Three weeks after her resurrection Sylvanas is strong enough to _feel._ She’s taken a habit of running in the forest, running and dancing and climbing, relishing in the feel of - literally - vitality and a new sort of power in her limbs. She hunts as well, but that doesn’t require so much work. She wants to get accustomed to her body anew and the muscles need the exercise.

On one of these trips she is thinking of her sisters, and like a repetition of the time when the little priest had awakened her dormant conscience, instead of guilt she now gasps at a rush of an even more forgotten feeling. She has never felt _homesick_ before. There was no time to really mourn her homeland or her people as she was killed right at the moment of losing them, and it took so long to regain her will as a banshee that by the time she did, she was virtually unfeeling.

Would her sisters welcome her, or shun her and wish to end her life like Alleria had wanted - justifiably - in the Ruins of Lordaeron? The need to talk to them, to connect again, is overwhelming.

She remembers everything from her time as an undead, every kill, every decision, many a conversation among the Horde leadership. But they feel like someone else’s memories, like an unhappy story that she knows by heart. She doesn’t feel the guilt, not directly, but she has decided nevertheless to take responsibility of it all - like a guardian big sister to an undisciplined lost sibling.

 _The Horde. And the Forsaken._ What is she to do with them? _Well, nothing, as long as we are on this titan-forsaken rock._

 

****

 

Anduin is restless. If they both had felt more or less stranded before their transformation, now the feeling is _burning._ He wants to use his new brimming powers for a cause of their scale. But he knows not whether Azeroth is already lost or what is happening there.

He knows his purpose is to protect, to heal and to fight for his people. For all people, for the world soul of their home planet. But the two of them are trapped here.

He hasn’t changed that much, not at heart. The Light in him has only enhanced his fundamental characteristics. The force of it and the emergency with Sylvanas somehow shifted his priorities for a while, but now a lot of things are falling back into place after the storm.

He misses her terribly.

The gorgeous living high elf ranger of Quel’Thalas who he lives with is not the same Sylvanas Windrunner he fell for, yet the priest still feels love for this new creature in his life. He has tried to suppress it, not let her see his yearning, as she herself hasn’t shown any signs of tender sentiments. He can still feel every emotion in her. The love is not there.

He’s not sure whether or not he should start mourning.

Sylvanas finds him making supper outside their home cave. Anduin lifts his head and smiles, golden eyes shining, and tries to look busy with the cooking. She doesn’t need the lost undead senses to know what he is feeling, her hunter’s skills giving her enough information. The prince has always been terrible at lying and he’s not much better at concealing secrets either. During her recovery she had mostly been indifferent towards him - grateful beyond words, of course, but without personal feelings.

Nevertheless, now that she looks at his bearded handsome face she feels a stir in her.

The young man is even more attractive than he was before. His self-confidence as a partner grew in their years together and being forged in the Light has made him glow with unbridled vigor. To her undead past self it would have been uncomfortable; to this living high elf it’s quite the different thing altogether. Her inherent inclination towards magic makes their daily healing sessions more like delicious withdrawal therapy than mere medicine.

And now… The power the Light has given him makes her core throb. She closes her eyes for a spell. She does remember what he was like as a lover, it’s just that she doesn’t _feel_ the memory, only knows the facts.

She decides she should experience it first hand in her new self.

_I’ve missed this._

His hand pauses for a second turning the spit and to his credit he manages to pretend almost credibly not to have noticed anything. But the little smile betrays him.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, still no smut, getting back to it with a slow burn.


	22. Creeping Fire, Sneaking Shadow

 

AN ABANDONED LEGION WORLD, TWISTING NETHER

“Tell me then… What does it _feel_ like?”

Sylvanas sits on the leather-covered rock that has served in the role of a chair for some years. Anduin lifts his golden eyes on her again, a small ripple of a frown passing his forehead. He takes the meat down from the fire, putting it on a plate that’s also made of leather. On this planet _time_ and skinned leather from beasts are what they have the most in their hands.

“What does?” She hears in his voice that she quite hit the target with the ambivalence of her words and the slight purr she added to the delivery.

“You know, being Lightforged. Isn’t that what has happened to you?”

“Yes, I imagine so. Although it’s a mystery how it was possible here, without a prime naaru. I believe the three of them left something hidden in me, ready to unlock if certain conditions happened to meet.” He starts slicing the food into chewable bits, golden strands of hair falling on his temples as he does so. “What does it feel like? There’s this clarity to everything, I know what I must do in this life - if I just could. I see how spells form and travel even before they do. I have more energy. Some days the Light is almost bursting out of me, it needs a purpose and use. I’ve been fortunate, if one can say so, to have you to heal, for both our sake.” He flashes a charming humorous grin.

“It’s not good to keep a force like that bottled up. It needs a release, obviously. I’ve felt how different it is. Truly potent. My undead form wouldn’t have been able to handle that kind of force.” Again with the vaguely suggestive word choices. Does she need these games to get closer to him, is he supposed to play along? He can feel her interest in a most thrilling way and she cannot have forgotten his skill.

“That may be. I have toned it down to about a tenth of my power. And I feel that if I concentrated and focused all of it into one cast, it could be… devastating. This is why I’m so impatient nowadays. I wasn’t given this boon for naught. I need to use it.” Anduin looks at her earnestly. “We need to get back to Azeroth, somehow.”

“I know. And yet - how? We tried everything we could. Holy Light isn’t exactly communication magic.”

The priest offers her the food and she picks up a piece of meat and chews it, brows knit.

“They won’t have stopped searching for you. I’m sure of it. And A’dal, that enigmatic piece of crystal seemed to have a plan or some sort of prophecy concerning us. It might just be that every week and year spent here has been exactly what was needed for some specific outcome. Weirder things have happened. Look at Turalyon and my eldest sister, for example.”

“Which part of their weirdness are we talking about?”

“We were roughly the same age, now she’s over thousand years old while I’m not yet past my first century. I couldn’t imagine anything more odd than a ranger being able to control the Void. And still be in a relationship with such a strong wielder of Light.”

The young man smiles at her, braving to show what he - still, or again - feels for her.

“It felt like I was being revived into life a second time. Or to a higher level of existence. But what about you? I haven’t asked. How does it feel like, to be… alive again?” He’s so used to thinking the word something offensive he needs to relearn to say it without hesitation.

Her long eyebrow rises. “Have you traded your gift for another?” To his surprise he feels warmth rise to his cheeks. _Of course she remembers… but then she knows… that I know._

And the tease on her face says just that. She shifts in her sitting position, moves her legs a bit wider. Nothing out of the ordinary, but the timing is perfect. He needs to inhale deeply.

“No… but I still think it more polite to ask than assume. We… you know. I don’t know what goes on in your mind.” He decides to toss the ball back, his fiery golden eyes on hers. “Even if I felt your every little wince and tremble.”

Sylvanas casts her eyes down, chuckling quietly. She remembers this feeling very well, now that she’s again connected to her body: the flirting, the innuendo, the joy of a slow chase is a wonderful physical exhilaration, not just a power euphoria. In her youth she was famous for making almost everyone she met eventually lust after her. It was her favorite pastime, in parties and everywhere, before she got more serious with her ranger’s career. And even then… She’d pick the most attractive or amusing or interesting ones for her night’s pleasure. Or week’s. No high nobles though, that would have become troublesome. She had turned down the advances of a royalty or two. Only one of her affairs lasted for months.

The reminiscing makes some memories flash vividly in her mind and a certain dark-haired human ranger, her last lover before dying, flashes past her mind’s eyes. _Oh, you. I have so much to apologize for. And you won’t forgive me, not ever._

Anduin has watched her face all this time, fascinated by how much he can guess by feeling the rising and disappearing of her desire, love, sadness, joy. Yes, there’s love. But it’s not aimed at him, it has a different feel than what they’ve shared. Her grey eyes look at him again.

“When I was a banshee, I couldn’t connect to my past memories anymore. Now I can feel them again, they’ve returned to me piece by piece… and now my years as an undead feel like someone else’s nightmare.” The look on his face makes her adjust the information.

“The years with you were the least terrible, I’m sure you know that. But I cannot feel the person I was then. It seems memories do not reside only in the spirit.”

Anduin understands her, even if his own metamorphosis might have been less profound physically than hers.

He needs to abandon his Sylvanas for _this_ Sylvanas.

“Do you need healing tonight?”

“I have another use for your powers, if you wanted a way to ...unleash the excess.” She gets up and he feels himself harden in his pants. He swallows and keeps his voice steady and nonchalant, just in case.

“What did you have in mind?”

“I haven’t had a proper duel in _ages.”_ She starts gathering Arcane between her palms, hip tilted in a teasing way, such a smug look on her face that he just bursts into laughter. She’s a delight like this, the same humour and hot-headedness but without the creeping darkness.

“You know I cannot attack you, not now.”

“I’m probably very rusty but I’m sure I can conjure up a powerful enough Arcane shield to block the worst. Let’s go.” To emphasize her words she surrounds herself with a shimmering violet globe of magic that goes _pop._ Her blond locks, now having a hint of gold in them, sway as she marches off, a picture of vitality and elven youth.

“Come on, I’m not even going to take my bow.” She taunts him once they’re a bit further from the cave. The stone walls might endure a lot, but their equipment wouldn’t.

“This is such a bad idea…” Anduin mutters, smile yanking his lips. Tentatively he throws a Divine Star in her general direction, a wide area spell with no target, and it slides off and over her bubble, some of the Holy cascading back to him.

“You’re not even trying, lion of Stormwind. Do I need to get you riled up to have a decent match?” Her studies with the Shadow and Arcade haven’t been for nothing even if those were done in her past form. The huge spell that Sylvanas smashes him with would be enough to down one of the hooved beasts; she trusts he is strong enough to take it without flinching and it turns out to be true. He doesn’t even have a shield around him, and it does sting, but doesn’t achieve much in the way of making him plead for mercy.

A longing surges inside her. Nothing’s hotter than immense power in the hands of someone so noble they hesitate to use it. Now she definitely wants to see a glimpse of it.

He doesn’t want to direct his powers at her. But ever the gentleman he consents to please her. Penance is a good old choice with half of it being healing, that shouldn’t be too bad? Anduin lets the spell start gathering from the depths of his soul, from the core of power inside him where all mana and spell power reside. It travels through the air brighter than the sun that’s near the horizon. Slowing only slightly at the contact of her Arcane barrier the spell melts it down like an ice cone presented at Onyxia. The Light hits the elf with a force that makes her somersault backwards a couple of times. Groaning she halts the movement and regains her footing. Her heart races and her cheeks are rosy.

“Good to know some things remain the same.” She grins, and Anduin feels her desire has grown to levels that might soon make trouble to his inner peace.

“Are you hurt?” He pops a Renew on her, just in case. Sylvanas gasps. It feels _intimate._ Both smile in an awkward fashion and instinctively stand down from any hints of warlike positions.

“No. You were right, I’m… not ready for this yet.” She breathes fast, attempting to hide it. Seeing his delectable reaction through the leather pants she has to close her eyes. Feeling her, he does too, reciting a hymn in his head just to balance himself.

Despite the teeth-clenching abstinence they’re both feeling slightly happier, like they’ve touched souls after weeks of dodging and being arduously polite. For being the former leaders of huge factions their communication skills in this particular predicament are atrocious. But this is a start.

A start of uncomfortable nights, that is. It’s hard trying to fall asleep when the tension fills the whole cave. They have their bedrolls on opposite sides of it. Moving back to camping elsewhere would seem too much of a reminder of their old quarrels, Sylvanas thinks, while she fights the urge to slip her fingers into her breeches. He’d feel it immediately if she pleasured herself there. He might play the oblivious gentleman about it, or he might not. As tempting as the idea is, she yet denies herself the awkward gratification.

They continue the occasional flirt for some days, testing the waters cautiously and in a roundabout way.

Then one night when they’re again trying to ward off the growing need and attempting to fall asleep on their camp beds she feels him penetrate her mind. His Shadow abilities are nowhere near as powerful as the Holy in him, but nowadays he’s a formidable spellcaster in that school as well. He has no idea he’s a rarity in the world. What he does is not mind control, which he would be very capable of doing without her being able to resist much. Instead, it’s a sort of a soft, friendly poke, very true to his person. Letting him in she realizes how much of an open tome she is. If she lets him further he can read her so much more than in the simple feelings she emanates.

_Like that time in Light’s Hope’s royal tent, ages ago in another life._

But this time _he’s_ the one in control. She’s relieved, really - they’ve been too bashful to confront the elekk in the room in its entire magnitude. She smiles widely in the darkness of the cave and lets her desire escalate freely, feeling him probing his way through the vestibule of her mind, gently like a silk gloved caress. She hears him sigh deeply some yards away. He is glowing like a lantern.

Sylvanas knew she probably would have fallen for him had they met alive. Her undead self did, and the same is more than likely to happen now.

_“My queen, I’ve missed you. May I enter?”_

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> // There will soon be more action, I just need to sort it out in my head. Meanwhile this slower chapter. //


	23. Of Elves and Humans

 

AN ABANDONED LEGION WORLD, TWISTING NETHER

Heat pooling at her core Sylvanas Windrunner, a living high elf ranger, lies on her camp bed. Anduin is inside her mind like only a Shadow priest can and it’s not even his specialization. She grins, giddy, allowing him to see how she’s seen the world after her resurrection. Joy and exhilaration swipe any hints of sleepiness away and her desire would wake the undead. She would very much like to get intimate with her former and future lover.

The young priest - he’s more or less 25 now - is lying on the other end of their cave, concentrated, eyes closed. They are near enough to talk normally but connecting minds is exciting. She thinks the words and he knows them right away.

 _“Like what you see, little lion?”_ How that echoes their past makes him chuckle.

 _“I’ve missed our nicknames too.”_ His voice in her head sounds familiar but it’s now infused with Light and laced with deep alluring Shadow. If he weren’t such a disciplined and kindhearted person the power he wields would be terrifying to even think about.

 _“So have I. I remember when our roles were the other way around.”_ She shows him the place where they met _in the flesh_ for the first time, lifetimes ago - or so it feels. Anduin smiles at the nostalgia of the Alliance logo in the tent’s fabric.

_“Many things were so different. I was very naïve, a king should never let his enemy catch him pants down.”_

_“I’m glad you did, then and now.”_ She turns her head to the side, watching how he glows in the dark. _“Are you healing yourself, or is that glow permanent?”_

_“They… it’s permanent. I’ll show you later.”_

_“Why not now?”_ Sylvanas doesn’t know if her thoughts carry the tone she would like to add to the words, but she fills her mind with the anticipation that burns between her thighs. Satisfied, she hears him inhale sharply.

 _“Because now I have other things in… your mind.”_ The former king must be proud of his play on words, it used to be one of Anduin’s favorite pastimes these five or six years to annoy her with his puns and limericks. Most of the time they made her laugh, though. Another thin fibre to connect their old lives with these.

_”And what, pray tell, would those be?”_

She feels a seed of Holy Light come into existence inside her mind - or is it in her body? She cannot locate it exactly. It expands softly at first, then surges in strength and width until it feels like she’s floating in an ocean made of sunlight. Sylvanas could swear her body is levitating off the bed but she cannot verify that, her eyelids feel so pleasantly heavy. Her every cell and muscle and thought relaxes, and she’s not complaining even if this wasn’t what she had planned for the night.

Right at that thought there’s a change, a slight shift in the hue of gold she’s enveloped in. Every bit of her that’s been elevated and opened into bloom by the Holy start humming, reverberating a song of pure pleasure. She inhales, mesmerized but unable to feel fear. Her eyes open but all she sees is Light.

_”Anduin.”_

_”May I?”_ He can feel she’s not afraid. He lets her know what he wants to do.

”Yes,” Sylvanas breathes.

A change of the shade she’s in, a mild pressure, like huge dark wings grazing over a field of golden wheat; her back arches and she indeed floats some inches off the mattress. Anduin turns to look at the high elf from the other side of the room, flips something in his mind, holds his brightly shining palms towards her. His fingers move caressing the channelled spell. Low moans start slipping past her lips, her nipples tighten under the shirt she uses for a nightgown, she feels like being massaged with dozens of gentle burning hands while the expanding Light from within her meets that touch on the threshold of her skin.

In that moment, as if just to see if he could, the priest halts everything. He keeps her at the edge long enough for Sylvanas to feel how perfectly all of it is in his control.

”Anduin!”

A smile on his lips and his desire swelling in his pants he releases her bliss, Holy Light being manipulated into particles of pleasure. Sylvanas wails as she comes undone and her lover feels all of it in his mind.

She falls feather-softly on the bed, panting.

”Oh, that is _so_ unfair.”

”How so?” His voice is thick with longing.

”I could never respond in kind.”

”I don’t think that is the point, my queen.”

”If that’s your way of healing nowadays, I won’t complain.” Glancing at his direction she gets up, legs trembling. ”You are still glowing.”

She decides some physical closeness is needed to either exact vengeance or return the compliment, Sylvanas is not yet sure which. She closes the distance between them and sheds all and any feelings of awkwardness as she does. The fair-haired prince smiles warmly, golden eyes darkened with love-infused lust when she sits beside him and starts unlacing his shirt (the one and only he’s had these six years - it’s worn thin at the elbows and collar and the whiteness of it is only a memory).

“Be careful.”

“Why, will you burn me?” She opens the shirt all the way down and gently slides it off his shoulders. His luster briefly blinds her.

“I might.”

_“What - “_

Anduin’s shoulders and sides are covered with golden and bronze patterns of pure Light, swirling and living yet permanent on his skin. They run along the muscles of his arms and seem to continue on his back.

“Oh.” She’s never seen anything or anyone so beautiful.

“You don’t mind them.” He’s relieved. The ranger runs her finger over one of the tattoos and her skin tingles in the most pleasant way.

“I definitely do not.”

 

*****

 

The Vindicaar appears over the small planet with a sound like a thousand corks of Arcwine bottles were popped open at once. It hovers over the dark landscape emitting a glow around it. After some time a Void portal appears more or less below it on the surface. Two figures emerge through it.

“I’m sorry, my love, I just don’t like it.”

“We don’t have any other means unless you think bringing Jaina - or some other mage - here would have been a good idea?” Alleria’s voice has a tinge of the Void that courses through her now a bit stronger after summoning up the gateway for them.

“Ugh, no - _ouch that stings_ \- no, the fewer know about this the better.”

“Oh, don’t be dramatic. If you suffer to touch _me_ the portal is nothing compared.”

“At least with you there’s a fairly certain pleasant outcome.”

“Don’t test your luck, human.”

The High Exarch of the Lightforged Army and the leader of the Void elves survey their surroundings with keen senses, one with the Holy, the other with her long experience as a ranger as well as with the aid of the Shadow.

“It seems uninhabited, except for the animals. You ready?”

“Yes. Two hours. Let’s go.” Turalyon is dressed up in full plates, the sword at his back. His lover and the mother of his son has her bow and quiver slung over her shoulder as well. You never know...

On their way through rocky cliffs they come upon the old shut Legion portal. Looking around Alleria detects several signs that make her smile.

“Someone’s been trying very hard to get this working again - with Arcane. That would be Sylvanas out of those two. There are also warding spells and traps here and there, we need to move carefully. I’ll dispel them.”

“Why? If it’s Anduin - and who else could it be - it doesn’t do harm to announce our arrival beforehand.”

“Sometimes you can be so trusting it borders on naïvety, my love. You can _never_ be sure about these things. It could be a trap, someone posing as him... ”

“And I might call you paranoid, were I so inclined.”

“This is why we make a perfect match.”

Travelling a bit further, through a silent forest of yellow-leaved trees they arrive at a small clearing with a rise on its other side, the sort that would hide a cave or two if you looked closer.

“We could come back in the morning, whenever that dawns on this place.” Turalyon stops on his tracks and seems to be listening. Then a wide, warm smile fills his scarred handsome face.

“What is it?”

“I think it’s him. And he’s finished his studies with excellent marks.”

 

 

*****

 

 

“Oh, _Light,_ I’ve missed you so much.” Anduin is cut off by Sylvanas’ lips pressing on his, open, hungry and warm. She’s straddling his lap, hands sliding over the glowing tattoos on his back that make the skin of her fingers prickle. His erection is squeezed between their bodies and though his discipline is as great as his newfound powers he’s been starved for her for weeks.

“I want you in me right now, young man.” She’s already pulling off his leather pants which flatter his toned bum and thighs just right. She’s really been ill, having been able to look at _that_ and not feel much. His shaft springs free and the Lightforged priest moans when her warm, slender but strong fingers wrap around it. She feels the Light hum through to her hand.

When she’s piercing herself on him it’s like being filled for the first time. She’s slick and yielding but it’s as if she’s never felt this sensation before. He stretches her wonderfully, his throbbing with every new swallowed inch accentuates her pleasure. Anduin sits upright and holds her buttocks when she reaches his hilt, muffling his moan on the crook of her neck, kissing the sensitive living skin.

And oh, how sensitive she is compared to her undead memories of his touch. Sylvanas is trembling. Small jolts coursing through her, his warmth all around and in her, the arousing and healing burn of his Holy Light that never seems to rest. She chuckles, breathless.

”Ah, could you maybe… tone your Light down a bit?”

”I have yet to learn how, my queen, if it’s even possible”, his raspy voice sounds amused and painfully aroused. He flips them around gently, lays her on the mattress and sinks back into her, his long golden ponytail falling over his shoulder, tickling her neck. Her warmth, the drumming of her heart are so new to him. He couldn’t have thought it possible to love her more than he already did but as he connects with her living body he feels like his heart is bursting with emotion.

The elf whimpers and gasps as he slides inside her, wrapping all her limbs around him, feeling the tattoos on his back thrum with power.

”Are you alright?”

”Yes, yes… it’s just…- ah! - So, so…”

A shadow moves across his visage and with seducing silky touches Anduin enters her mind again. She welcomes him, her words having failed to explain. Feeling her hanging on the verge of her body, mind and soul being overwhelmed is almost too much for the prince. If Sylvanas could, she’d joke about double penetration or role swapping right now.

_“Oh. Gods. Should we stop --”_

_“No, no... don’t you dare. Just… hard to… speak.”_ Beckoning his mind deeper she lets him feel the whole of it.

From outside it looks like a silent explosion of pure Holy Light exiting the cave in slow motion - the creators of the phenomenon didn’t have a choice to be quiet, however.

 

 

*****

 

Some moments earlier Alleria and Turalyon had quietly reached the cave’s front yard, as the dwellers now called it, and seen the calendar stone. Without a word Alleria scans through the markings and points them out to her lover, holding up five fingers, mouthing the word _“years”._

He understands. They move towards what looks like a lived-in cave mouth, hopeful for seeing Anduin alive and well, apprehensive about facing Sylvanas or learn about her fate. If what Turalyon sensed was true there should be no way of her to control the former High King with her necromantic powers. And there’s also a chance he’s been here alone and desolate for years if the dethroned Warchief had continued to wane like Vereesa had described.

They reach the cave opening. Everything’s almost silent, the nighttime birds caw at long intervals, the wind rustles the leaves in the nearby woods. They hear faint sounds of movement from inside and glance at each other to verify the other heard it as well. Alleria nods and slowly they peek inside.

The powerful burst of Holy magic makes them retreat behind the rock wall. The rescue party members look at each other and both have color on their cheeks. With a mutual grin and nod they sneak outside of earshot to dare and whisper. The Void elf could have talked straight to Turalyon’s mind but she’s being cautious - either one of the lovers inside the cave might be able to catch that although it’s highly unlikely, them being all caught up in a climax the sort of which would make even the trees nearby blush.

Also, Turalyon hates when she uses Shadow on him so she usually saves it for when he has particularly annoyed her in some way.

“You were right! He’s a Lightforged priest, those tattoos on his back… _Excellent marks_ indeed! How on Azeroth did he manage that by himself?”

“A’dal? Or the naaru that are not on any planet, maybe? If Vindicaar detected the burst of Light, they must have seen it too.”

“Oh, Elune have mercy. That was… intense. I guess my sister has not perished yet, then.”

“Yes, _ahem,_ I dare say. Reminds me of us in our first years after my ascension, my love.”

“Oh, I remember you making me pass out, you Light-monster. We should prepare to go in there and revive an undead elf somehow.”

“Hey! It was only that one time. I learned.”

A small playful smile appears on her lips. “Yeah… you sure did. And now you have me to fear.”

 

*****

 

“Sylvanas - I’m sorry, I didn’t realize - there are so many things to learn and to adjust to, it just sort of…”

“Sshh, you silly, wonderful human. I’m more than fine, you just _healed_ me enough for the rest of my life. And it’s not the first time I black out. Admittedly the first time ever because of sex but…” She grins, sweaty strands of gold-white hair glued to her temples, eyes bright and cheeks rosy. Anduin cannot get enough of her beauty.

“Well, yes, apologies for that too. But I wasn’t talking about that.”

“Oh? Well _thank you very much_ mister forge-you-in-Light”, she snorts. They’re lying side by side, the cave still illuminated only by the tattoos on his shoulders and arms.

“I mean… I’m not sure how the quel'dorei decide when to, um, procreate, but humans usually employ Arcane spells or some contraptions to prevent -”

“What do you - “ and then she’s speechless for a long, immobile moment. _Oh Elune, I had forgotten that completely._

She rises to sit straddled on his hips and just admires his beauty for a while, deep in thought, fingers tracing along the tattoos on his sides.

“We can’t be sure I’m wholly cured, can we? I carried this body in a permanent state of death for a long time, I might not be able to -” She needs to stop there, the words burning in her throat and forcing tears in the corners of her grey eyes. She had not cared about the thought of offspring when she was alive, ambitious and still very young as she had been. But now...

There’s an undeniable, absolute certainty in Anduin’s gentle voice when he reaches to caress her belly with his fingertips. “You _are_ cured and fully alive.” Sylvanas inhales sharply, tears running over her cheeks.

They are interrupted by both of them sensing a presence of other people. Once the heat and the burn of the Holy has subsided the ranger’s hunting senses and the priest’s Shadow skills start working again. It’s so rare they almost had forgotten what the nearness of other individuals felt like.

Anduin smiles widely, golden eyes shining.

“I think I know who they are. Cast the spell to clean us up?”

 

*****

 

“We should come back later. Vereesa will start worrying soon.”

“We still have an hour or so.”

“As pleasing as his ass was to look at I’m not daring to go back there - “ Alleria stops when she feels a presence and turns around. In hindsight Turalyon seemed like he knew they had been spotted.

Anduin Wrynn, renounced High King of the Alliance walks towards them with a smile as bright as the glow his worn-out shirt cannot hide completely. The Void elf likes his beard immediately.

“Dear friends. We have been waiting for you.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big thanks to my endlessly inspiring lovely table-flippin' writer's guild <3  
> If anyone out there feels an urge to draw or otherwise illustrate Anduin with the Lightforged tattoos, I'd love them to bits.


	24. Traversing Astral Planes

 

AN ABANDONED LEGION WORLD, TWISTING NETHER

Turalyon immediately recognizes the power Anduin is radiating even in this dormant, calm state. _By the Light, he might become stronger than me and in such a short time - if he already isn’t._ He smiles widely, proud and amazed of his student.

“The leather pants though, not so much.” Alleria shakes her head with a teasing glint in her eyes. Anduin reminds her so much of her husband when he was younger.

“What? I thought we did a good job stitching and patching these up. They would have evaporated after three years of continuous use and Arcane washing.”

“You’re right. Neither of you ever received proper training in sewing - in that light they’re phenomenal. You have been here five years I understood?”

“Yes. How does it match with Azerothian time?” Anduin gestures them to follow. Turalyon glances at his spouse who nods.

“It’s been about seven months since you… eloped.” The prince stops in his tracks. Silence. Then his shoulders seem to let an unseen burden drop.

“Oh. So everyone is… still alive?”

“More or less. I think we should discuss politics and world events later in detail. Vereesa is at the Vindicaar expecting us to return in an hour and the hike there took about a half.”

“We’ll all go together. Come, we have some moments, don’t we?”

Alleria steels herself for the confrontation with her more than wayward little sister, if she even considers them family anymore. She tries to find ways to calm herself - and the growing voices of the Void inside her head - against the banshee’s snarky comments and probably hostile attitude. _Living alone with the priest might have changed her, I suppose._

They step through the cave mouth into the warm light of a campfire that’s being tended by someone very familiar to her - from decades ago. She stops, nonplussed, her mind gathering pieces of a puzzle in slow motion. Anduin moves aside pulling Turalyon with him. His questioning expression widens into amazement when he sees the high elf inside the cave. He can only assume, but the resemblance is so obvious there really isn’t room for doubt.

”Hello, Lady Sun.”

“...Sylvie? How…” After a moment of shock the tears start pouring on the older sister’s face and she inhales sharply. Sylvanas stands up trembling and stares at her until her eyes water as well. The void elf takes a step closer, reaches her hand and touches the warm, living arm of the one she thought lost forever. Her sister is smiling through the falling tears and she feels it’s there, what they were, what they had as a family, ages ago. They look each other in the eyes for a long while, searching and finding connection. This is not the cruel Banshee she met and almost fell prey to in Lordaeron throne room.

Alleria glances over her shoulder to the priest who’s also weeping with joy. King of empathy, as he was called by someone some years ago.

“You… how is this possible? The surge of Light we saw in the Nether - the one that lead us here. You _resurrected_ her?”

“Yes. I have no idea how it worked. I might never do anything like that again.”

“You just did, little lion, mere minutes ago”, Sylvanas chips in and everyone gasps. A smirk yanks her lip and Turalyon starts laughing. It spreads to everyone.

“Lady Moon. I can’t believe it.” Alleria lunges at her and hugs her like a bear, wanting every possible proof that she’s really alive. “I’m glad I didn’t kill you then.”

The touch of Void feels eerie on her reclaimed body. It resembles the Shadow Anduin wields but it’s more like a living entity inside the other high elf. Sylvanas slides her hand over the whirling deep blue tendrils under her sister’s skin. She remembers thinking her an abomination and Alleria’s new form is still odd, but her values and views have somersaulted of late.

”Not half as glad as I am.” _Not as glad as I am now for not killing either of you in Windrunner Spire._ She shudders at the thought of having been resurrected into a life without her family, knowing her desolation would had been her own doing. But then - every step of this bizarre journey would have been different if she had, and she would not have ended here in this remote world with the Alliance king.

Anduin’s beautiful voice directs the sombre mood into practical matters. “How long did the voyage from Azeroth take?”

“About a week. We’ll wait until you’re both ready to leave, we have enough food supplies.”

Anduin and Sylvanas glance at each other, a sliver of melancholy in their eyes for the farewell to their secret nest. Then they nod and turn towards the rescuers in unison like automated gnome mechanoids.

“We can leave now.”

“I’m ready in a minute.”

Watching the younger couple gather a few items here and there in the cave Turalyon and Alleria laugh at them in a manner that tells how perfectly they understand the sentiment. Homesickness can be a slow torture that you end up getting used to.

“One question about the Vindicaar’s supplies though.”

“What is it, Anduin?”

“Do you have any _cake?”_

 

*****

 

ABOARD THE VINDICAAR, IN THE TWISTING NETHER

The Light-powered draenei vessel looks so odd after years of not seeing even a tiny glimpse of civilization.

Vereesa cries more than all the others combined, astonished and happy beyond words. She’s kept faith in Sylvanas still hiding a part of her soul somewhere in there and she had been right in a very roundabout way. She’s clinging to their middle sister for a long while, completely ignoring any discretion around the staff. After the former faction leaders get a new set of clean, less worn-out clothes - and Vereesa has hugged Anduin near breathless - the Lightforged spouses leave the three sisters to their reunion.

“To think we talked about you precisely on this spot of the Vindicaar when Alleria was found in Argus and…” Her voice breaks and she can’t continue for a while, smiling through tears. “Now I have both of you back.”

 _“You_ might see it but convincing the world that I’m not the same anymore requires more than words.”

“But it’s obvious! You don’t even look the same as...” Vereesa isn’t sure how much diplomacy the situation requires.

“As the Banshee Queen, yes. She’s dead. Even so I carry the blame of her deeds.”

“Lor’themar will be over the moon. All the moons.”

“Will he? I don’t… I can’t be part of the Horde anymore. I don’t think they’d even let me but moreover Quel’Thalas is the only place that would feel like home - if I don’t count that little piece of rock we just left”, she smiles, a shadow washing over her features. “But it’s the independent Quel’Thalas that I remember, I _feel_ it in my heart like I just left there weeks ago.” She inhales, pushing back the pain and sorrow that are now more than just old memories of someone else who lived them. She _lives_ and the ties to those horrible moments against the corrupted paladin are renewed if on a tolerable level.

“How is the faction war at the moment? Did it end with my incarceration or disappearance?”

“It mostly did, yes. But the new threats have a part in that too. One would have thought the Legion was the last uniting enemy, but it wasn’t. The Wound has grown wider and more of the Azerite rifts keep appearing everywhere - like the planet would slowly rip apart. The oceans are in uproar more than usual and we’ve confirmed at least in one case that a long, magical storm was due to an Azerite tear opening on the seabed. And every time a new rift appears there are either naga, cultists or Faceless abominations around it. I mean, everyone is drawn to Azerite, it has unimaginable powers being the Titan’s core. But it’s still notable that these groups are the most interested in it.”

“If you don’t count the goblins.”

“Yes, but they behave like that with anything that can be exploited for gold.”

“So these news in addition to prophet Velen’s visions of the Black Empire rising again… We’ve concluded that the Old Gods already have a grip over some groups of beings who are either willing or easily manipulated. And the Faceless are emerging from inside the planet itself, which explains Azeroth’s constant pains that Magni has been reporting with worry.”

She keeps quiet about the part of the visions concerning Sylvanas and Anduin in the frontlines. For some reason it feels like tempting fate to reveal it, at least this early. Prophecies have a tendency to get distorted, give false hope or prove to be interpreted completely wrong.

“Do I even need to choose sides? It sounds like the only side there is is the planet’s. If I had to, I might feel more inclined to be part of the Alliance, because…”

“Yes, Lady Moon. Let us move somewhere a bit more private and you _will_ tell us about your young royal groom.” Alleria’s voice is so playful and suggestive that they all burst into laughter just like in their youth when the nicknames were given and they shared secrets about their admirers or fancies. She takes her younger siblings to her chamber and asks for a bottle of Dalaran Noir for them to share. Just like in the old days except the wine was of their hometown vineyards.

“I’m going to get all tipsy from a single sip given that I’ve just been born again. I might have no tolerance whatsoever.”

“Well, all the more fun for us”, the eldest smirks. “Now, are you aware that you have shocked our Little Moon here with your erotic escapades in Outland? Because of her we do know something about the manner of your relationship …and especially about Anduin’s role in it. And his proportions, I might add.” Alleria’s teasing grin only widens and she tastes the wine.

“She knows I’m not shocked by anything erotic, dear. I wish you’d stop already with the ‘little sister’ play.”

“I was away in a war for a thousand years, indulge me, darling. And it’s more to do with your widowhood, I don’t want to cause you sadness.”

“I will be fine, thank you. As a widower I would like to hear everything precisely _because_ at present my love life is dry and desolate.”

“You did say it was uncomfortable to behold because you’ve known the prince from his early age.”

“I think I will get over that for the sake of juicy details. I’ll see him as her man, not as my young friend.” There’s color on Vereesa’s cheeks and it’s not the wine yet. Sylvanas takes pleasure in that. Her human lover is exceptionally attractive, especially now with the Light forged in him.

“You will need to explain how you’ve seen us. I’m at a loss.”

“Jaina Proudmoore and I followed your escape trail to Hellfire Peninsula. Someone spied you ...camping. She has a way of opening people’s minds, and when I say _open_ I mean we saw it like we were watching it right there. You did like to suck them until they were delirious, as I recall.”

A very rare and surprising phenomenon occurs before their eyes. Lady Sylvanas Windrunner blushes. Alleria cheers.

“By the Light, Sylvie! That’s not just a game with a pretty human boy. You’re in _love.”_ Sylvanas lowers her eyes and smiles. Vereesa gasps and jumps to hug her. Their big sister looks pleased.

“I’m so happy for you, you have no idea. That won’t free you from sharing with your sisters, though. Did it hurt when you had him as a Lightforged? I passed out a couple of times at first when Turalyon forgot his powers…”

“I think I lost consciousness there for a bit, yes. But he’s always so careful, and he has been healing me daily after the resurrection so I’m very accustomed to his Light.” She takes the first sip of the wine and braces herself for instant inebriation. “And to his Shadow.”

“Wait. What? He can still use Shadow as well?”

“Yes, very skillfully too. Why? Turalyon cannot?”

“It shouldn’t be possible for any Lightforged, it sort of shuts all other schools of magic out but it repels Shadow and Void specifically. This is peculiar.”

The tone in Sylvanas’ voice didn’t go unnoticed by Vereesa. “And what precisely has he used Shadow magic for?” They all look at each other in the eyes and giggle simultaneously like human teenagers.

“We can communicate through it without speaking. It’s… useful. Especially now that we’re returning to society.” She takes another sip of the wine and hums approvingly. “I can control Shadow as well though my Arcane is stronger.”

“It always was. I do that too with my disinclined Lightwielder. So, he enters your mind and you allow it. That doesn’t sound like _any_ Sylvanas I know.”

“Anduin is an exception in so many things. He takes good care of making sure he doesn’t violate anything, to the point of me wanting to just slap him and start a duel.” Her grin warms the sisters endlessly.

“I can’t imagine what it feels like to train a lover from the start - he’s all yours, isn’t he? He’s never had anyone else.”

“I consider the Banshee Queen another woman, really. She was his first. Fortunately he hasn’t displayed any signs of being traumatized or defiled by her. He’s very resilient, that one.”

“I was concerned when I heard Anduin being enthralled by you… by her. But I also secretly had hope for you, you know I always did. And he maintained his level head through the affair it seems.”

“He was the one who kept me sane and alive. Yes.” During this whole conversation Sylvanas can feel Anduin’s presence on the ship, soothing and exhilarating. And she knows he feels hers too. The touch of his Light still lingers inside her like a small sun, warm and alive.

“My tastes as an undead were fairly similar to what I prefer now in some regard but this living body, ugh - it’s so _sensitive._ Anduin beams Holy so brightly even when unconscious I’m constantly on edge… in several ways.” She winks at them. “And I’m not as dominant as she were. I’m looking forward to letting Anduin lead. He’s shown potential.” She empties the glass and licks her lips.

“Yeah… Vereesa, we’ll give them the most remote guest room there is on the vessel separate from the rest. The one at the back on the lower level seems suitable, don’t you think? It’s good that we have a Lightforged crew with their interfering Holy auras or we’d all just be hot and bothered for your beautiful king.”

“Oh, shush. But I approve the choice of lodgings.”

“How about that beard then? Will you ask him to keep it now that he has access to sharper blades?”

 

 

*****

 

 

Feeling her happiness and presence through the walls and distances in the huge spaceship Anduin smiles and unconsciously scratches his overgrown auburn stubble. He and the older - much, much older - Lightforged human walk to the Vindicaar’s massive windows to look at the Twisting Nether pass. The movement isn’t really visible but the knowledge is there.

“I need to prepare for introducing her to the leaders of Azeroth. Most of them probably still want the trial but it will have to be done in a different way now. Sylvanas isn’t the same person or being who committed those horrible crimes and she has suffered for them already for years. Still, an atonement of some sort is needed to make peace with everyone.”

“You speak for her very freely.” A small smile tugs Turalyon’s lips. As a husband to a strong-willed high elf he recognizes a peer when he sees one. More than just a brother in the Light.

“We have talked about this for years. I know what she wants and what she considers her burden. Even before her resurrection she had started to feel like this. I will support her in all her endeavours.”

“So you trust her? That she has changed?”

“I know it. I can feel her heart.” Turalyon hears the depth of that feeling in the younger man’s voice, the lack of any doubt. It shows beautifully in his features, makes his aura brighter. “And I am the only one who can shield her well enough against the initial hostility that will rise when her name is mentioned again among the denizens of our planet.”

“The naaru will side with us on this.”

“I’m glad you will too.” Some distant dots of light are seen for some moments in the absolute darkness of the Nether Realm outside the vessel, then they vanish.

“The Horde and the Alliance have ceased to fight except the usual skirmishes here and there. I even led some small campaigns in Arathi myself but they feel meaningless now. The rise of the Old Gods seems inevitable sooner rather than later. When we get back be ready to fight for Azeroth herself.”

“I’ve been preparing for this for a long time although I didn’t know what I was doing it for.”

“Velen saw you there, you know.”

“He had a vision we would be found?”

“That you would come back somehow, yes. And that Sylvanas would be beside you in the coming battle. Many of the leaders didn’t take that well, but none could have imagined an undead could be resurrected back into life. That’s completely unheard of.”

“I have been thinking whether it would be possible for the other Forsaken as well, but most do not have a body as well preserved as hers was. Nonetheless, we as Lightforged should test it with willing people.”

“You are not considering taking the crown again?”

“I don’t think I should.” The look on his face is of determination and hope.

_They wouldn’t approve of my choice of queen._

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the hiatus - the story will continue but updates will come a bit infrequently. Have all these hugs and tears in the meantime :)


	25. Predictable Proposition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Put some flowers in your hair, people. This is THE FLUFF. It’s going to be worse than the endings of _The Return of the King_  xD This is not the end yet, though!

 

ABOARD THE VINDICAAR, TWISTING NETHER

Sylvanas Windrunner and Anduin Llane Wrynn wake up together in a comfortable bed. He’s been watching her calm breathing for some minutes, legs against hers under the sheets. Her blue-grey eyes open and after a moment’s confusion about where and when this is and who she might be she remembers and smiles. She’s feeling rested and altogether healthy.

“You’ve shaved, little lion.”

“You like it.” The conversations are going to be a bit for show or out of habit, him feeling most of her emotions without the need for her to phrase them. But she likes his voice and would never stop insisting he speak out loud even if both of them could read minds.

She stretches and purrs. “I do. And I like the stubble too. Let it grow a bit. Is it early?”

“I can’t really say. The Nether is dark and the few time-pieces here all work a bit differently. They are far more suited to count days than hours.”

“Well, how many _days_ do we still have for waking up like this? One?” Her fingers trace the Lightforged marks on his arm that’s slowly caressing her side, over the dip of her waist, over the ribs. Anduin is glowing again like her personal sun and the Light seems to grow while he watches her and grazes the swell of her breast lightly.

“Probably one more, yes.” His beautiful naked form, shining with the tattoos, would keep Sylvanas glad just by being there for her eyes. She wants more than to just look, though, and she sees his desire without any magical abilities.

“Try not to make me pass out this time, hmm? I know you need to concentrate on a lot of things but it’s such a waste not to be conscious when…” her words fade into a smile and she averts her eyes. The Arcane contraception spell requires materials they do not have here - well, Alleria might have but she hasn’t come round to talking about this to her sister - and the young man has demanded to be responsible for not impregnating her by accident.

“What? Sylvanas Windrunner being bashful about the matters concerning sex. Alert the sisters, we have an emergency!”

She laughs and sits up, rolling him to his back, revealing his eager erection from under the sheets. She takes it in her firm hold and slides the skin back. The young man inhales loudly.

“I wasn’t being shy. I was trying to keep a secret. But nevermind that, now I need stronger methods to distract you.” She crawls over him and kisses the priest on his beautiful lips, kisses him deep with tongue and teeth and all until he moans in his throat and grabs her by the ears. Her joy and want fill his senses but he’s curious now. He pulls her lips off his mouth just an inch, watching her with darkened golden eyes.

“Sylvanas…”

“Anduin. I love you.” It comes out matter-of-factly, like declaring the most natural and desired state of affairs, like the sun rising or the joy of being alive. He has felt it for days now and he knows she knows his feelings too.

“I love you too, my queen. You’ve known this since you started healing.”

“I have. But I like hearing you say it. What does it require in human laws for a matrimony to be legally binding?”

“Uh buh - what? Oh. Um. A priest or a high ranking officer of one of the faiths and three witnesses. Are you -”

“It’s my time to propose, isn’t it, little lion?” She’s sitting astride his hips holding his manhood prisoner under her likewise naked crotch. She shifts and it moves sliding horizontally between her labia, pushing against her clit deliciously.

“We’ve known each other for such a short time, dear quel’dorei, practically for a blink of an eye. Shouldn’t you spend at least a few decades inspecting and stalking me before you decide something so important?” He smiles with a teasing glint, caressing a lock of platinum-golden hair behind her long ear.

“I know my heart, young man. I have never been famous for my patience. And the only thing it’ll change between us, in my opinion, is that you will be mine in the eyes of your people as well.”

“I’m not the king anymore. I’ve freed myself to marry whom I please and I humbly accept your proposal, lady Windrunner.”

“As you should”, she grins and kisses him again, reaching for his cock and sliding it in her. The young fiancé cannot tone down his delight, and as he and the Light are one, he radiates the Holy increasingly stronger until she moans.

“Anduin - you are burning me again.”

He gently flips their positions, placing her on the pillows and enters her again slow, shifting to Shadowform as she watches, his eyes turning from gold to deep purple. She’s not sure which one of his powers arouses her more but there’s the additional allure of darkness in this one. A good man controlling a dark force - an irresistible combination.

“Tell me if this helps…” The shimmer of his marks dims a notch and the intensity of his Holy magic settles at a bearable level. It’s not like she doesn’t enjoy the overwhelming transcendental encounters, but sometimes it’s good to simply be close to the other and down to earth. Even on a dimensional naaru spaceship.

The Shadowform flows around him like mist, ghostly tendrils flickering in and out of sight. Sylvanas sighs deep for the mere embrace feels heavenly. To be alive and experience this, to have another chance at life and even love - tears fall from under her closed eyelids as she welcomes his lips, his slow thrusts, his mind in her mind.

_“Don’t pull out this time, I want to feel you in me completely.”_

_“But my lady, there’s a risk...”_ Her mind rushes before her to show she has these vague, new dreams now. It was supposed to be kept from him for a while yet but now that he’s here, connected to her in all possible ways, she doesn’t see any reason for him not to know it. Yes, she wants to have children with him.

But it isn’t the right time yet. There’s a war coming to Azeroth. A war that might end them all.

Drowning in his love for her Anduin nears his climax and she’s swept along, his Shadow access to her mind letting her know how he feels. There’s the control, the grip of his will keeping him from the release.

 _“It’s all right - please, stay there - I love you - ”_ she lets him know and he gives in, lets go, and she joins him. She’s conscious - barely - when he comes inside her. Through their moans of pleasure she wonders if he still watches her mind. She’s seeing a small half-elven girl with golden hair and blue eyes, like a prophecy.

All the elves with their endless lifespan have very low fertility. _It wouldn’t happen so soon in any case._

 

*****

 

BORALUS HARBOR, TIRAGARDE SOUND, KUL TIRAS

“I have been to Dalaran and Khadgar tells me the same thing is occurring all over the Broken Isles. There have been no signs yet in the Eastern Kingdoms but it’s only a matter of time.”

“We have concluded that the most effective way to avoid the infection is not to go near them. Once those little monsters are attached to your head - well, if you’re alone you’re a goner. If you have company then Holy or - surprisingly - Shadow spells work the best. I mean, these things are of the Void themselves, one would think they were immune to Shadow but apparently not. Holy hurts them like the plague hurts us. Other spells less, but they do _some_ damage.”

Genn Greymane listens to sir Cyrus Crestfall’s explanation, nodding, silver grey brows knit. Queen Taelia had sent the worgen king back to his diplomatic post after hearing news of yet another rift opening in the seas. In many coastal areas entire villages had gone seemingly mad, people turned into squidlike creatures overnight and attacking anyone not yet their ilk. There had also been reports of the underwater realm of Vashj’ir having more naga activity than in years. Stormwind and Westfall were preparing for hostilities from that direction and the negotiations on how to divide the navies was in motion.

“What about pure melee damage? I’d think ripping them apart would work.”

“It does and it might, but the bigger they are - we’ve seen man-sized Faceless as well - the stronger their mind controlling powers seem to be. The area of the effect wider. With the big ones you barely have time to hit once before you’re under their spell. Some can resist it, paladins seem to do fine but that’s Holy again I think.”

Cyrus takes a sip of his hot tea and grunts. “So imagine any monster the size of what you’ve told about C’Thun… I fear the melee might be useless.”

“I only heard and read about it. We were behind the wall when that war happened.”

“I say we start gathering and training spellcasters for this, especially priests and paladins. Hunters too, they can stay far enough to be safe.”

“We have the Lightforged Army, what was left of it after the Legion, with their naaru vessel. The naaru that reside on Azeroth need to be contacted but they must be aware of this already.” Genn sighs, sorrow wiping his features. “I wish Anduin were here. What about Zandalar? Are those islands having the same troubles as well?”

“We withdrew most of our scouts after the faction leaders disappeared. The Zandalari have the same sort of diplomatic ties to the Horde as we have with you but they haven’t officially joined either. I’m expecting a report from Xibala tonight.”

“Call me when you get it. I’ll send some letters back to Stormwind in the meantime.”

 

*****

 

THE VINDICAAR

“Good morning, darlings!” Vereesa hugs Anduin like a sister she doesn’t know she’s about to become and then Sylvanas, who rolls her eyes at Alleria’s suggestive face behind the youngest. The void elf with her senses must have noticed if not heard them - again. Sylvanas is nonetheless endlessly glad of their presence.

“Is it morning, then? I’ve lost track of time.”

“After some centuries my mind kind of forgot to care. You get used to it”, smiles the oldest of the Windrunners sitting on her husband’s lap in a lounge where they all gather daily. Anduin notices the older pair also brimming with closeness and warmth which delights him. _So, they got inspired,_ he chuckles to himself. Alleria sees his small smile and winks at him.

“We don’t have that much time, I assume. We’ll be arriving on Azeroth in less than a day, are we not?” Sylvanas, her golden-blonde hair flowing beautifully after the wash and Arcane drying, clad in Vereesa’s blue-and-brown ranger outfit she lent her, sits down on a cushioned couch and seeing Turalyon nod continues with a serious tone.

“Where do you think I should stay once we land? Is Dalaran safe? Or dare I go to Silvermoon? I don’t really know where I belong now and I have a hunch there are many people who want me dead whether or not I have changed.”

“I don’t think Theron would refuse you - Horde or not, he’s our kin. I’m sure you can stay at the neutral Isle with the Scryers until you know more of the situation.”

“I could always just hide and live off the land, that would be like old times... “ she doesn’t continue but Anduin feels her old love for the lost human ranger. He smiles at her and she answers it, calm. There’s no room for petty feelings like jealousy between them.

He’s wearing a white and golden priest outfit with flowing hems that makes him look like a son of a god. Their gaze on each other lingers and the paladin clears his throat to speak.

“Anduin… I’ve been meaning to talk about the naaru. You mentioned they gave you their blessing but you didn’t change then at all?”

“No, like I told you it happened later, in a moment of desperation. Three of them who are in Shattrath and K’iru in Quel’Danas planted something in me and it lay dormant for years until... she died.” The love in his eyes makes all the Windrunners as well as the older man smile warmly.

“Initially I went to see them to ask for help… for Sylvanas and her weakening. But they declined. I would have gone to Saa’ra as well but we needed to keep my quest a secret and Netherlight Temple is always bursting with people. But now that we’ll soon be back…”

“Yes, all the priests and the naaru need to be recruited and prepared for the battle.”

The former High King turns towards his secret betrothed. “Sylvanas… I’ve avoided this subject and if you don’t want to talk about it, I won’t. But I would like to meet with Calia Menethil about the idea… to talk about the Forsaken.” She jolts just barely noticeably hearing her name - the _last_ name. She remembers well how she - how the Banshee Queen - killed Arthas’ sister in a fit of jealousy and fear of losing her people over to her. How selfish she had been, how afraid and fragile under that dark rage and numbness.

“She too was resurrected with the Light, wasn’t she?”

“You know about it?”

“The Dark Rangers were excellent spies. So, I’m not the only one.”

“She’s still undead, somehow, but within the blessing of Light. It’s peculiar. I would like to look into it more - after the battle, should we succeed.”

Sylvanas nods. “I’m with you. This seems the only worthy cause if I’m allowed my life and freedom. I don’t assume getting back to the Farstriders is an option, as much as I would like it to be.”

While they eat breakfast she feels a poke in her mind. Looking up she sees that her lover’s eyes have a hue of purple on them but he hides it under his lashes as soon as he’s detected. She allows him. Alleria glances at the young Lightforged, curious, sensing the Shadow but letting them have their secret whispers in peace.

_“We have a High Exarch right here. Only need to find one more witness.”_

Sylvanas almost gasps as the joy fills her. This living, she muses, it’s nearly too much sometimes. _Go ahead, little lion,_ she lets him hear. She knows she can be bossy and probably won’t make an effort to change that, but she’ll let him have this one. And every other time in bed.

A Lightforged draenei priest they recognize approaches her human leader. “High Exarch, you asked after me?” Turalyon nods towards Anduin who gets up from the breakfast table.

“Geera! So nice to see you!” He takes her hands in his and after two blinks she recognizes the former High King.

“Anduin! I see you’ve joined us in the highest tiers of Light. Such fortunate news, I’m so glad.” He smiles brightly and nudges his head towards Sylvanas.

“Remember your patient from Exodar prisons?” The eyes of the draenei widen as she takes in the beauty and evident well-being of the high elf.

“I do. Miracles indeed seem to happen. Congratulations, lady Windrunner.”

“You will repeat that in a moment. Friends, stay a while. Turalyon - I would like to ask a favour.” The paladin smiles, oblivious, but the sisters’ faces light up and they cheer.

After an emotional explanation the former faction heads, free of the burden of the royalty or that of leadership, stand side by side to be wed under the huge dome window through which they can see the Twisting Nether and its endless depth in stars. Their fingers are entwined and so are their souls.

“If you don’t stop fussing I’ll go find replacements for you from the crew”, the bride warns her family but lets them put a flower in her hair nonetheless. “Give him one too, then.” The golden groom takes it and places it behind his ear, giving the sisters a wink. Geera stands with them as the third witness and smiles as widely as the rest.

“Sylvanas Windrunner, Anduin Wrynn. Under the eyes of eternity and the witnesses gathered here, do you wish to take the one standing beside you as your spouse and life mate, to cherish and protect through happiness and hardship alike and whatever life may bring in front of you?”

“That is my wish”, they answer in unison.

“With the power vested in me by the Church of Light and the Holy Light itself I proclaim you two married according to the laws of men.”

Anduin bows to her, half playful. “My queen.”

“My king.” She feels ready to retreat back to their chambers already - and not because of exhaustion.

The sisters won’t let the pair go until they kiss while they watch.

 

*****

 

That night - they didn’t know it was night on Azeroth - they arrive high over the Isle of Quel’Danas. Alleria conjures them a Void portal to teleport to the ground. Turalyon shows no signs of annoyance whatsoever.

“How fast do you think we could get word to Taelia and Genn? Velen should be informed as well. I’ll stay at the Isle for some days at least with… my wife.” The word sends warm shivers down his spine. They had wanted new monikers, hadn't they?

“And I need to invite Lor’themar for some discussions… if he’ll agree to meet me. And a couple of others.”

“I can deliver a message quickly to Stormwind through Void portals but I don’t think I’ll show my _traitorous_ face in Silvermoon for some time yet.”

They step through the portal. The weather is warm and lovely, and the fresh sea breeze makes them all breathe in after the long stay indoors. Suddenly Sylvanas grips her husband’s arm, nails digging in the flesh as she almost loses her footing.

“Are you alright?” Anduin feels her choking emotion and for a moment cannot decipher the meaning of it. He balances her in his arms. “What is it? Tell me.”

She gasps, tears falling in streams on her smiling face.

_“I can feel the Sunwell again.”_

 

 

 


	26. Old Wounds and New Bonds

 

ISLE OF QUEL’DANAS, EASTERN KINGDOMS

Lady Liadrin, the Matriarch of Blood Knights rests her eyes a moment between the groups of Sin’dorei pilgrims. She’s here to enlighten and guide them about their heritage during this week. It’s been a long night. The Regent Lord welcomes the travellers at Tranquillien and walks with them, asking them to relive the events that transpired years ago when some of the heroes were still children or weren’t yet born. He takes them to the Dead Scar and the magic lantern shows them how the Scourge and the corrupt paladin leading the monsters overran their forces all those years ago. They see how the valiant Sylvanas Windrunner fell. After that Liadrin takes them to see what happened to king Anasterian and how the Sunwell was tainted. The blood elf leaders had walked through the ritual first, according to their custom.

It didn’t get much easier with time, the memories were vivid in the paladin’s mind. She had been at Silvermoon when Arthas had shown off what he had done to their Ranger-General. It was horrible. Even after Sylvanas had freed herself from his grip, even after the Lich King’s death and the Banshee’s becoming the Warchief of the Horde Liadrin still held a secret softness in her heart, a lingering sorrow for the young, ambitious Farstrider leader and her untimely gruesome death. Her undead resurrection just underlined the sadness of her fate.

That feeling, almost entirely, was the reason she had tolerated Sylvanas as she became crueler and more unpredictable by the day in her position as their Warchief.

She opens her eyes, pats her horse absentmindedly and checks if there are new pilgrims around. The courtyard is silent. However the familiar naaru powered space vessel that hovers above the Isle now wasn’t there a moment ago. Liadrin dismounts and starts towards it, hearing K’iru above her on the inn balcony chime in a soothing way.

Ten minutes later she’s wondering if the memorial week has finally messed her senses. She nods at the familiar couple but her eyes stray towards the other two figures whose presence here tries to warp her mind around.

“Turalyon, I see you’ve recovered from Arathi. That conflict remains unresolved. Lady Alleria, Lady Vereesa, good to see you both well.” They can hear resentment towards the Void in her voice.

“Good evening, lady Liadrin. How fortunate that you happen to be here - perhaps you could aid us?” Turalyon bows lightly.

“...What is the meaning of this?” She can’t hide her puzzlement about the rest of the arrived party. Alleria answers her, smiling.

“It’s a very long story, but you are seeing correctly. We found king… former king Anduin from the Nether along with… well… our sister.”

“Warchief...? But it can’t be...” The living high elf in question nods and comes forward. There’s not a trace of the Dark Lady in her yet it’s unmistakably her.

“Only Sylvanas now, Lady Liadrin. I’ll explain everything but I need to ask a favor, if you think you can spare the time. I realize our arrival seems somewhat fated, it’s the memorial week now, isn’t it? I never took part in it but...“

“...you were there the first time.” There’s a hint of breaking in Liadrin’s voice and she bows to the other elf. “Thank you for your sacrifice, Lady Windrunner. We never forgot it.” A warm feeling of belonging and pride fills Sylvanas’ heart. The paladin matriarch is not talking to the Warchief anymore.

“You probably understand my reluctance to leave this island for some time - the Alliance most likely prefers me missing or dead regardless of my present state. Do you think you could invite Theron here? I would like to talk to both of you. I assume no authority whatsoever that has been connected to my name previously.”

“He’ll be here in an hour when he ends tonight’s walk in Eversong. We both organize this ritual.” She glances at the human prince, nodding politely. Anduin smiles brightly and bows. “A lot seems to have changed in a short time. Won’t he have a say on the matters with the Alliance?”

“He abdicated the crown when we left. But let us talk all that later. I need to send a message to the Forsaken, whoever is the speaker for them. Is this possible?”

“Yes, I can dispatch someone through Silvermoon portal. He resides near Farstrider Retreat nowadays.” Sylvanas’ eyes move sharply to the paladin, realizing who she is talking about. Behind her Anduin feels her conflicting emotions and stealthily sends a soothing wave of Light at her. She turns around, cocks an eyebrow in the way of soft scolding. The young man smiles and lowers his head in a playful show of yielding.

“I have some meetings ahead soon. Should we go greet the naaru?”

“Indeed.” The Blood Knight Matriarch spies the warmth in the priest’s voice and sees how close to each other they are standing. Glancing at the older pair she gets a confirming smile and a nod. _I see. Well, this changes world politics somewhat._

“If you’ll excuse me, I will skip this meeting with the Light. Anduin - I’ll go see the High Queen and Greymane immediately. I try to get appointments for tomorrow.” Alleria gives her husband a brief kiss and starts summoning a Void portal. The rest along with some Lightforged priests ascend to the second floor of the inn.

Under K’iru’s soothing blue-white light they all feel a calm settle over them. The naaru speaks to all of them through their minds.

_"Sylvanas Windrunner. Anduin Wrynn. Your destiny will collide with the Black Empire very soon. It is fortunate that you met according to this particular prophecy. The possibilities were many and this fate was a minority among them.”_

“My gratitude for you and your brethren will last a lifetime, honored K’iru. You made this possible.” Anduin motions towards himself and Sylvanas. He sees her serene face and feels how she can now fully enjoy the Holy power emanating from the being of Light.

“Thank you”, she says, simply. The naaru sounds like glass bells in a breeze.

_“You two have formed a strong bond. It will be needed in the coming battle. Go, rest, prepare. Before long we will all meet at the shores of the sea.”_

“I’m heading to Dalaran to see if I can find Khadgar. We need to catch up with the latest news on the islands. After that I’ll rally the Lightforged.” Turalyon hugs them both and Vereesa queues after him.

“I’m going there as well. The rangers of the Silver Covenant and the Unseen Path will start assembling as soon as I can get the word around.” They leave towards the lingering portal for Vindicaar.

The former faction leaders are given a room on a lower tier of the large inn. Anduin stays with K’iru, Sylvanas walks with Lady Liadrin towards the dragonhawk landing pier where the paladin expects Lor’themar to return from the memorial walk.

“Why is he coming here and not going back to Silvermoon?”

“At the end of the week we always go to the Sunwell.” She glances at her companion, not sure how to address her now. She looks young, like she was the day she fell to the Frostmourne, and completely alive with that comely rose on her cheeks. If this were a ruse the naaru would have seen through it. What miracle could have caused it?

“You are welcome to join us if you want.” The reverent smile on the high elf’s face is something Liadrin would never have expected on the proud undead queen.

“Thank you. I’d like that very much. And so would Anduin.”

“...of course.” It’s going to take time to get used to her not being sarcastic or cynical.

After a silent moment they spot a red dragonhawk in the darkened horizon. The Regent Lord of Silvermoon lands on the pier with a somber look on him, having re-lived the horrors of the Scourge invasion through the whole week. In that condition seeing his former Ranger-General alive in front of him stops him on his tracks with a delay, like he’d half expect the shadows to follow him here. Watching her for a moment longer wakes him from his stupor. The ghost from the past smiles.

“Lor’themar.” He knows that voice.

“Have we woken up the spirits permanently?” He looks wary, does not move.

“No. But I have a lot to tell you that might change the life of some of your allies.”

 _“Sylvanas._ What on Azeroth has happened to you?” In the midst of his heart bursting he notes the distinction she makes between herself and the Horde, and Lor’themar feels it more than natural to call her by her first name. There’s softness in his voice, warmth even. The three elves walk the shore and talk for an hour until a Shattered Sun messenger rides to inform them the leader of the Forsaken has arrived. Sylvanas feels a jolt of anticipation in her abdomen, of fear and joy.

“Will you excuse me? I need to do this alone.”

“Of course.” They watch as she sprints back to the buildings like a youngster.

”Of all the things—”

”I don’t know what to think. But I’m deeply happy for her.”

Sylvanas sees Nathanos’ tall, dark figure from afar, standing in the doorway of the elaborate elven portal building, brooding and wary. A long forgotten affection surges in her and she needs to blink back tears.

_Could he ever forgive me?_

When she’s ten paces from him the dark ranger turns his head towards her, impassive for the mere two seconds before his brows knit in puzzled recognition. She walks closer but stops far enough for safety. His eyes are glued to her, roaming and taking in the near impossible knowledge of her new state. She sees his mouth open in speechless astonishment and a small hesitation hints at a deeper feeling. Seeing her like she used to be when she broke the Farstrider rules for his sake wakes up painful, precious memories in him.

“What is this?” He sounds defensive and shaken, his dead pale hands clenching into fists.

“Nathanos. Forgive me for the vague message, I was afraid you might have refused to meet me if...”

“Do you expect me to believe this charade? Who are you?” But he does believe it and she hears it.

“Nathan. I’m so sorry for what... what I made you go through. I’m aware this isn’t what you would want to hear, but I need to say it.” The anger hiding the pain on his face doesn’t go amiss and it hurts her, hurts so much to have lost him in life and made him accomplice to the terrible case of his cousin. Among other crimes. Tears sting her eyes and she’s too absorbed in the feeling to try and quell them. They are standing in the middle of the silent square, the yellow and red trees that glow even during the night emphasizing the contrast between the living high elf and the undead human.

“I’m not the Dark Lady anymore. I’m closer to that Sylvanas who was slain not far from here. And I owe you a debt I’m not sure I can ever repay but I will try if you let me.”

 _“Stop this.”_ The dead can’t cry but he looks as near to it as one could when he turns sharply towards the portal building. Sylvanas leaps and grabs him by the arm.

“Wait. Nathanos, please.” He halts but does not turn around, keeping his broad back towards her. She remembers the range of emotions that were possible for an undead. For some cruel prank of fate the hurtful ones were always the strongest. His low voice is a raspy whisper when he finally speaks.

”I would have gone to the eternal damnation with you. I didn’t care who I killed or what balance I disturbed if it just pleased you. And now… now you’re...” She has the same rose scent about her that he remembers from their distant life in Quel’Thalas. Something long forgotten stirs in him and he wants to crush it.

“I’m alive. Yes. And there might be a way for the Forsaken to avoid the suffering in life and the curse of the final death.”

“Was it the brat?”

“Yes.”

“You _love_ him. Just like a _normal living person.”_ The gnashing of teeth underlines the resentment he feels towards everyone, basically.

“I do. But I didn’t just turn overnight. These months here have been more than five years for us. The Nether warps time in strange ways.” He still doesn’t move. Her voice breaks and she lets go of his sleeve. “Nathanos, I _died.”_

Slowly the man relaxes his shoulders like in an exhale he doesn’t need. He turns to face her and the look on his cold white face is not exactly compassion but he’s listening keenly now.

“I died there and I saw it again. If it weren’t for some very rare and unpredictable conditions I would be forever tormented in the void now. It was still my destination. I… I still don’t know if it’s designed only for me. But we’ve talked about how the Light could -” The Blightcaller flinches like seeing the ugliest fowl in existence.

“It _is_ possible to get accustomed to it. It took me months for it not to sting. Much.”

“I’m not quite convinced every one of us walking corpses would find a _devout_ _lover_ to save us.”

She cocks her head and looks so beautiful with her golden curls and rosy cheeks it hurts the ranger lord’s unbeating heart.

“Where do the Forsaken live now? Orgrimmar?” That makes Nathanos snort.

“You don’t know how fitting our title is nowadays. After your _eloping_ with the Alliance king the Val’kyr were banished and we’re basically allies on paper only. Saurfang barely tolerates me in the few meetings we’ve had. The Forsaken live scattered throughout the known world, most are in Northrend, in Venomspite and Vengeance Landing. A few stayed in Brill and the surrounding farms. The Dark Rangers live near Farstrider Retreat and in… the ruins of your old home.”

“Windrunner Spire? Oh.” _Oh._ Could she rebuild a home there? “What about you?”

“I reclaimed that love nest where I saw you last.”

A silence falls between them for a moment, both knowing what was exchanged in that short look back then.

“We were waiting for your message up until the orc took the mantle of the Warchief.”

”I couldn’t… You saw me. I was helpless. My body was giving up and Anduin’s Light was the only thing keeping me from breaking.” She decides to omit the fact that the same magic was also the starting factor for her deterioration.

”We thought you had a plan. For all of us.”

”A very vague one, yes. But nothing to do with the war. I was thinking of the Holy as a cure even then.”

_”I don’t believe you!”_

”The Light had returned some of my feelings even as I was still a banshee. You know how stubborn I am! Do you think I would have complied if I’d had a choice?”

“It was probably his cock that gave you new sentiments! Don’t you realize how utterly meaningless everything is if you now say you regret what we have been? We are all but exiled because of you!”

“Yes, I know that. And I know you probably won’t forgive me. But I am sorry, Nathanos, truly. If we survive these Old Gods I will look into this deeper and ask you again then. How are the rangers?”

“They are like we always have been, hopeless and clinging onto hate as a means to survive. Or have you forgotten already?” He turns angrily towards the portal and this time doesn’t let her hinder him. She stands there for a moment, silent.

”He’ll come round eventually, I’m sure.” She hears Anduin’s soothing voice somewhere behind her.

”You heard all that?”

”I felt you.” His radiating power touches her. ”You love him very much.”

”Yes. He used to be the most precious person to me. And now I can’t even—” Sylvanas sniffles once, then gets a hold of herself. There are many difficult meetings ahead and she’s new to the emotions being so distracting. And yet they are the reason life feels meaningful once again. There must be a balance somewhere in between.

”Don’t heal my grief, little lion. I need to relearn to cope with all that comes with this blessing.”

”I know. I’m tempted but I won’t.”

“I’m exhausted, let’s go see the Sunwell. I got you a ticket too.” Her smile is a teasing one despite her tired voice.

“You need to rest, my queen. Most of the Alliance leaders might be here tomorrow. We have to decide the matter of the trial.” Anduin touches her cheek gently and draws her closer.

“I know.” She kisses him on the lips and for a moment forgets all her upcoming troubles. It’s all worth it. It will all be worth this.

They walk together to meet the blood elves.

 

 


	27. Surprising Encounters

FROM BORALUS TO QUEL’DANAS

Genn Greymane marches towards the Sanctum of the Sages after receiving Alleria’s message from Cyrus. Joy, relief and dread quarrel for dominance in his heart, making him smile and sigh deeply while trying to keep his temperament and worgen side sealed in. The only time he was absent from his ambassadorial position in Boralus was the precise moment something this important had to happen! He had been to Xibala personally and after telling haphazardly the increasingly worrying news to the old soldier he left towards Stormwind. He had missed the void elf by mere hours. Jaina had already left, probably teleported straight to Anduin without a second thought.

 _How am I to face him now that he’s paired with the Banshee?_ The whole thing still doesn’t make any sense, especially when the note hinted at them having been away for years because of some twist in the Nether. If she had woven her spells throughout _years_ there might be no chance to talk Anduin out of it anymore. But he loves the boy so much he catches himself trying to come to terms with the uncomfortable, inexplicable yet inevitable fact of his chosen mate.

Attached to Alleria’s letter there’s a short note with Taelia’s seal telling her greetings, so the Gilnean king doesn’t need to visit her before this trip. From the new Stormwind portal room he walks briskly to Shattrath portal and steps through without delay, bracing for dizziness later. His grey head hasn’t gotten used to the fast travel as it would have when he was younger. After the High King’s disappearance they had decided to include the remote Outland city once again among the official travel destinations. This last teleporting to the Isle of Quel’Danas leaves Genn feeling like he’d traversed endless spaces and times.

The soft summer weather of the isle lessens his physical unease if not that of his soul. He all but runs down the stairs of the elven building to faster meet the dreaded situation and his dear “adopted son”.

From afar he sees Jaina Proudmoore standing in the middle of the sunlit courtyard with Anduin and some other people. Slowing his pace to a somewhat dignified step he notices that truly, the abdicated king seems some years older than half a year before. A sort of melancholy surges in him, not having been there for the boy.

But he’s a man now, not a boy anymore, and that’s evident from his relaxed, self-assured posture. He still looks the same he always has, compassionate, strong in the spirit, modest yet regal. A golden shimmer surrounds him.

“Genn. I’m so glad you got our message.”

“Anduin. Are you alright? You look… fine.” The old worgen answers the young man’s warm smile and gets snatched into a tight hug. The priest radiates power that he recognizes to be the same as Turalyon’s.

“So good to see you. I wish circumstances weren’t as dire as they always seem to be.”

Over the former king’s shoulder Genn sees a beautiful fair-haired young elf who’s watching them keenly, smiling but wary, with a soldier’s stance. She’s standing further from them with some Lightforged draenei. There’s something vaguely familiar about her. Anduin releases the older man and keeps on beaming. Jaina nods him a greeting and she too looks a bit baffled.

“Anduin, Queen Taelia couldn’t leave her duties in the capital as they are preparing the rest of the fleet for the war. She sends very warm regards and is glad that you have returned.”

“How has she been? I’m still feeling bad for putting her in a tight spot like that. I’d call it a youthful whim but I’m not sure anyone would believe that of me.” His grin is playful and he glances towards the blood elf - or high elf, maybe - who’s standing behind him and ...rolling her eyes.

“Now, you two know I regard you as my aunt and uncle really, not having any other family left. Which is why I’m happy to have you here before the others.”

“I don’t know how much time we have for chatting. I just came from Xibala early this morning and the rise of the Empire seems very near - we might not even have days left. The seas are in uproar and the naga -”

Jaina interrupts his report with a gentle touch on his arm. “Genn. We have some moments, surely. You need to meet her.”

The worgen realizes he has been rambling just for that reason - he’s terrified to meet the killer of his son and the inevitable estrangement it will cause between him and his dear boy. He clears his throat in a slight embarrassment and his handsome face wrinkles as he braces himself for what’s to come. Jaina’s voice had been almost tender, which confuses him even more.

And then it hits him, why the unknown elf seems familiar. The Gilnean king raises his eyes towards her. She looks so much like Alleria. Alleria… Windrunner. And she’s looking back at him with an expression of nervous resolve.

“King Greymane.” Her voice is soft but determined and she bows her head. Anduin seems alert beside her but doesn’t interfere.

“I know there’s nothing that could mend what was taken from you… what _I_ took from you, but if you allow me, I will try to make amends as well as I’m able.”

To his astonishment his worgen doesn’t leap in rage nor does he feel any resentment or bitterness towards the elven woman he now understands is Sylvanas Windrunner somehow reborn back into life. Instead an unobstructed stream of tears fall over his lined cheeks. He’s aching for Liam, the heartbreak that will never heal choking him with this new reminder... yet he now has Anduin back. And from the manner they stand together, the way their energies flow around each other, the human shaped worgen sees how they are one. She has made the boy happy. She is not the Banshee anymore.

“I tested for any illusion magic and the naaru confirms it too, it’s not a trick.”

“I see that. Anduin’s word would have been enough”, is all he can manage as he wipes his face into his sleeve. The woman who robbed him of his future and who he in turn deprived of hers has now been given a real natural life - and a future. The newly Lightforged priest must have had a hand in it.

The former High King places his hand on his uncle’s shoulder.

“How much Alleria told you?”

“Not much, really. She missed me by some hours and only left an invitation to hurry and meet you here.” He eyes Sylvanas and is continuously amazed by the lack of hatred towards her even if he now sees it is the same person… just… not undead. A small voice in his head reminds him of how his turned people were treated in the beginning. There are parallels. Is it only her returned state among the living that makes him regard her with what he’d almost call empathy?

“Then you will all hear it the same time. Jaina tells me Magister Umbric was sent to aid Tyrande and Malfurion with a speedy void portal. They will arrive soon.”

“I advised him not to make a void portal here, because of the Sunwell. They’ll be coming via Shattrath.”

“Will you be taking your position back in some capacity?”

“I don’t see how I could. Unless Taelia is dreadfully unhappy - or incompetent, which I doubt. You know how humans are with…” His eyes shift to the high elf beside him and Genn understands what his worgen senses have been trying to tell him. They need to protect Sylvanas.

“There was a prophecy about you… about you two fighting in this war.”

“Yes. There also was a prophecy that said Sylvanas needed to become the warchief. And look where that got us. I’m not saying I won’t fight, but prophecies are tricky.” All except her partially-secret husband are intrigued by her speaking about her past self like a separate person. Yet somehow that feels natural.

“I’m sure Velen can enlighten us how that was necessary. At the very least it got us to meet as equals. I remember this line of yours about _stations_ and how you wouldn’t -”

“Hush, we’re in polite company now, not in the cave anymore.”

Their warm flirting is being stared at by the momentarily forgotten polite company. Jaina laughs softly, cheeks warm.

“Some would argue you weren’t a very good king, escaping like that with the enemy queen.”

“Well, I ended the faction war with it, didn’t I?” His glinting eyes betray his attempt at playing offended.

The portal chimes above them and they see the night elven delegation arrive with Magister Umbric. Tyrande Whisperwind walks down the ramp in her regal posture, Malfurion Stormrage by her side. They have a group of sentinels with them and the priestess looks cautious but also hopeful.

“Anduin. It’s really you. Thank Elune you’re alive.”

“You have found your true power. Congratulations.” The archdruid smiles and nods.

“Tyrande, Malfurion. How have you been? Thank you for coming in such a short notice.”

“I didn’t like the way we parted the last time we saw each other. We’ve been quietly grieving for you until recently when Velen gave us new hope of you still being alive. I thought the Banshee surely had killed you.” The priestess takes the young man’s hands in hers as a greeting.

“Quite the contrary has happened, and then some. How is New Darnassus?”

“It’s beginning to thrive, thanks to this fairly peaceful time. But we still mourn for Teldrassil and these new perils are at our doorstep - everywhere. We truly need to work together this time.”

“Even with the Horde?” Anduin smiles at the hope for building new treaties later if they survive this. Malfurion answers with his booming voice.

“Yes, the new leadership has been very reasonable. And we do not have much choice, Azeroth is our mother and all of us are her children.”

“Well put. I wanted to meet here because there are things that need resolving before everyone can try to cooperate as best they can.” He nods towards Sylvanas who had been standing on the sidelines again, not wanting to force the encounter before the priest had greeted them.

“Who’s this? First I thought it was Vereesa but --” and then her face stiffens in a weird moment of recognition. Malfurion’s eyes follow his mate’s and he starts too. Sylvanas wonders how many similar meetings she will have to go through but she swallows her pride easily with the scales being as they are. She steps closer kneeling the ancient elven way.

“High priestess, shan’do. I know no words can comfort you for the loss of your home, especially from the one who was the key in its destruction. I’ve never been one to bow my head even in life but I’m willing to do my best to atone for what _she_ did.“

Tyrande’s glowing eyes sparkle with agitation but she manages to keep her temper in check.

“So the prophecy was true then. I don’t sense any deception in your form. And you talk about Sylvanas like you were not her. What has caused this?”

“If it’s any consolation or recompense to you the Banshee Queen died in an accident in a remote Legion-corrupted world. Thanks to the healing powers of the High King of the Alliance she had gotten most of her emotions back before that and she deeply regretted what she did to your people, suffering from the voices of the dead for years. If it weren’t for Anduin she… _I_ would be in an endless torment for the rest of eternity in the afterlife. But he resurrected me to this living being that I was before the Scourge invasion. I have the memories of the Banshee, but there’s no connection to her in my soul.”

“Are you saying you feel free of all her crimes?” Malfurion seemed calm but vigilant, watching the high elf with scrutiny.

“No, I am taking them as my burden. But I feel my new life would be wasted if you decided to execute me for them. Let me try to repair as much as I am able. I don’t have forces anymore, possibly not even a faction, but I will come and fight for our world against the Empire as Velen predicted.”

Anduin steps in. “All of this is true. I could feel her suffering and guilt throughout the years and in my book that counts as a judgment already.”

“You both keep referring to _years._ You do look older. How long were you away?”

“Five to six years, it was quite difficult to keep track of time.”

“And the Ban… Sylvanas was your prisoner all that time until she died?”

“Light, no! We lived together. There were no other people there and no way out, so technically we were both prisoners.”

Tyrande isn’t wiggling her eyebrows to her life mate this time but they do share a glance. It’s obvious the two void travellers share more than mere companionship, the air practically glows between them. And she had been hinted at this possibility in some talks.

”I see. And now you are something more.” To everyone’s surprise the malice in her voice lessens. Anduin smiles and his golden aura grows brighter.

“Yes. Much more.”

Tyrande watches Sylvanas thoughtfully. “Well, I am not one to to judge the whims of fate, but -”

A sudden earthquake trembles under their feet. The whole island seems to shake for a moment in what sounds like the earth wailing in agony. K’iru lets out a loud alarmed jingle and disappears from its post in a blinding white flash. They all hear its message in their minds.

_“N’zoth has risen. The Light will march to war.”_

“Already?”

A portal appears in the middle of the yard near them. Khadgar runs through, Turalyon and Velen are behind him.

“Everyone! It’s begun! There’s a huge rift in the ocean floor between Kul Tiras and Zandalar, and something big has emerged from it. We need to go now!”

“Part of the Stormwind navy left towards Boralus some days ago, the rest will follow today. I’ll go protect the Queen and send a message to the captain to continue towards western Drustvar coast. Anduin, my boy, see that you survive this!” Genn takes off in haste and morphs into his worgen form mid-jump through their Dalaran portal before it dissipates.

“The rift is closest to the Broken Isles and Khadgar will lead the Kirin Tor. Me and the Lightforged will come on Vindicaar. Anduin, will you lead the Netherlight Temple priests with Alonsus?”

“Where are my sisters at the moment?”

Velen notes Sylvanas and smiles warmly at Anduin and her. “Vereesa left with her rangers for Broken Shore. Alleria is waiting for you both with the Conclave. They were surprisingly cooperative with her void elves this time.”

“My sentinel archers are stationed at the Warden’s Redoubt with Maiev. We’ll leave there to give them the word and join the battle as soon as we can.”

“Remember, no ground forces near any foe, not even the small faceless monsters. Spellcasters and rangers only, we need to keep as far away from their mind-controlling powers as we possibly can. Melee forces are practically out of the question except for the most skilled paladins.”

“There was a time, around when C’Thun was active, that _all paladins_ were put in the task of healing. No other role was even considered.” Turalyon nods at the newlyweds as they join his side.

“The Horde is on the move as well. Lady Liadrin will bring her paladins and Warchief Saurfang told me the Zandalari princess Talanji will sail with her Light-wielding forces in their fastest ships.” Khadgar seems breathless and starts to conjure a new portal back to Dalaran for everyone.

“I’ll get my fleet near the rift immediately. See you at Deliverance Point.” Jaina kisses Anduin on the cheek and disappears in a blink.

“Once we are all there we need to discuss tactics - if the situation allows. I will make sure there are teleporters throughout the different forces.”

Sylvanas takes Anduin’s offered hand in hers. They all step through the glowing magic ring of Arcane to the battle for their Azeroth.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //  Sorry, serious business preventing any sexy times  //


	28. The Battle for Azeroth

  
ON AZEROTH

Sometimes prophecies do come true.

Much was written about The Battle for Azeroth afterwards, a lot of it fragmentary and unclear. What was certain was that the Old One N’zoth was defeated with unforeseen cooperation between the denizens of the planet and that there had never been so many ships in one place at the same time in the entire history of Azeroth - and probably never will again.

Many of the fighters claim to have seen Azeroth herself manifesting in the form of a giant titan and landing the final blow. Magni certainly said this was true but he saw it in a vision and was not present. Most of the fighters, as far away as they attempted to stay from the Elder God, were affected by a darkness in their minds that neared insanity if they remained under the influence for long. For this no two recollections of the events seemed to be similar. The naaru had been there to clear the mental attacks away and without them the fight would have been lost in the early minutes.

Every Light-wielder who drew breath - and some who didn’t, but existed nonetheless - on the ships, on the shores, and by the end of the battle, floating in the ocean, put their effort in the huge Holy dome that the naaru, the Lightforged army and the Vindicaar created around the monster. The stronger it held the weaker the Lord of Twilight became and all other magic started affecting it in greater magnitude.

Anduin Wrynn, former High King of the Alliance, led the combined Holy and Shadow attack by the priests of the Conclave with Archbishop Alonsus Faol. By his side, a lot of the time literally, was his wife Sylvanas Windrunner, a reborn living elf with uncertain affiliations, previously of Quel’Thalas and the Horde. She and her little sister Vereesa with her Silver Covenant rangers focused on shooting continuous Shadow and Arcane infused volleys on the monster and its mind-eating minions. Alleria Windrunner, their eldest sibling, found out just how well the ren’dorei could harness existing Void energy: little by little, when the foe weakened, the void elves seized its strength without harming themselves. They were the only race capable of staying close to N’zoth without losing their senses.

The Kirin Tor mages flew over all of this with their magic discs and moved people about according to need and balance of the fight. When the enemy was weakened enough they too joined the offensive spellcasters with Arcane and Fire.

If all this hadn’t been fatal and grave an onlooker would have regarded the occurrence a beautiful, elaborate dance of all the colors of the spellbook.

On the Zandalari side of the gargantuan monster the Dark Rangers and the Forsaken led by Nathanos Blightcaller added to the Shadow, Fire and Arcane pressure towards the foe’s end. Any tauren and troll druid that had any inclination towards the Arcane magic were in the fight. The Zandalari Empire had more Light casters that anyone would believe of a pyramid full of trolls but it was true, and their leader Princess Talanji on her father’s mandate was the mightiest priest of them all.

The warriors and rogues left out of the cataclysmic event didn’t have to twiddle their thumbs beside the healers. While all the forces were moving towards N’zoth several messengers came to tell of the simultaneous rising of Queen Azshara from the depths of the palace of her favorite handmaiden. A portion of the fastest ships were deployed to move the melee armies to Vashj’ir where they met head-on with the naga queen. The Ebon Blade lead that attack and it was successful - as the source of her power weakened so did she and she was slain some hours before the Old One.

The battle against N’zoth lasted nearly a day and a half. The void elves with the clearest minds assured the rest of the exhausted and delirious fighters that the monster had been driven away for good, ripped out of the rift that was its nest and banished into the Twisting Nether where the naaru forces would dismember, detonate or imprison it. Some of them said it was the titan who finally kicked it out, some of them claimed it was done by the Azerothian naaru. The scribes and historians didn’t like this vagueness one bit, all the annals written would make them seem incompetent.

The faceless, big and small, lost their life force once the origin of their organic matter was banished. The big ones collapsed, the smaller mindeaters vanished releasing their current hosts.

There were casualties, like in all wars, but less than expected. A group of the Lightforged was assigned to revive the fallen during the battle according to the ancient priesthood knowledge, the one Anduin was well aware of. If the souls of the recently dead were still close by they could be brought back like they’d just lost consciousness for a moment. He himself performed this near miracle several times in the course of the arduous fight.

Those who had succumbed to N’zoth’s ”gift” for too long were lost.

 

*****

 

DALARAN, ABOVE THE BROKEN SHORE

Sylvanas Windrunner and Anduin Wrynn wake up skin against skin on silken sheets in Vereesa’s guest room. They’ve slept twelve hours without stirring, the wounds of their flesh and scars of the mind slowly healing with Anduin radiating the Light even when unconscious.

”Ahh, I slept like the dead.”

”Don’t say that, my lady. I never want to experience losing you again.”

”I’m sorry, little lion - _hibernated,_ then.” She nuzzles his neck relishing in the warmth of his skin, the sensitivity and life of hers. Will she ever get tired of feeling _so much?_ She hopes not - this gift is worth every jolt and jump, every tickle and pain. And even the occasional passing out. She kisses him under his ear and threads her fingers through his long golden hair. Anduin lets out a sound that’s almost a whimper but a grown-up Lightforged priest who just participated in saving the world cannot do something like that, can he?

In her hands he can and he’s never been one to hide his softness, since it’s really a part of his strength. He turns to lie on his back and welcomes her in his lap, her kisses and bites getting hungrier. His hands caress down her spine, the curve of her hips, her behind. His cock swells further under her thigh that’s been rubbing it on purpose.

“It seems you need tasks of the Black Empire magnitude to tone down your glow. I might even stay conscious this time.”

“I promise to get an occupation that drains most of it.”

“Good. I can come supervise that.” Sylvanas crawls lower kissing his stomach and hip bones, sliding her hands under his bum with a possessive grip. It’s been ages since she sucked him and she’s in the mood now, the relief of the world not ending immediately making her new appetite for life bloom. Anduin sighs realizing what she’s about to do. She still loves to tease and control him, but with his powers being as tempting and wonderful as they are, she rarely does that nowadays. _The lion has grown indeed,_ she remembers the Banshee saying somewhere, sometime.

Her lips, warm and wet, softly taste the tip of his erect member and he gives the reins to her, leaning back on the pillows, shutting down the Light and the Shadow as much as he’s able. He wants to be just a human, a husband to his highborne wife in this moment. Framed with a cascade of platinum blond hair Sylvanas slowly swallows his length and enjoys every little twitch of feedback from it, the warmth of the velvety skin, the thickness that stretches her lips, the pressure and heat it emanates. She takes her time, pauses when he’s getting too close, tastes and nibbles and then again takes it deep into her throat. Soon her spouse is panting and oh, how she loves that scene: this beautiful, powerful young man, Lightforged tattoos decorating his trim muscles, handsome face contorted in pleasure, writhing under her ministrations. She would love it even if she didn’t love him, and she loves him so much she’s bursting.

“Have you felt it too, my king? I seem to have been wrong about the elven fertility. Or maybe it’s due to your virility, who knows.” She continues teasing him with her tongue like she didn’t just talk about the most important thing in Anduin’s future.

“The new life? Yes, I have. I was afraid to say anything before the battle. And I wasn’t completely certain then…” His smile alone could heal the whole mage city around them. He has felt her love and happiness only grow, so they can call this a fortunate surprise, not an accident.

“You’ll find that half-elves grow faster than humans though they mature slower. And because of you, my shining prince, she might even be a _Lightborne,_ whatever that entails.”

“She?”

“Probably. Now take me or I’ll eat you until you cry.” She licks up his length and rises to mount him with a dazzling smile on her face. Anduin almost laughs how his own human upbringing tries to insist that these subjects aren’t suitable for the same conversation. He has much to learn about elven culture, especially now that he’s near immortal like they are. A couple of decades more will no doubt relax his remaining inhibitions. Sliding inside her makes him check, just in case, when he still has half his wits about him.

“Should we be more careful now?”

“According to my eldest sister, no. Just need to pick suitable positions for my belly. And my appetite for you will only grow during these months, she says. So be prepared, my lion.” Sylvanas moves her hips finding the perfect angle and sighs contentedly. The bouncing of her beautiful breasts mesmerizes the young groom.

“You’ve told her?” 

“Not yet, but she likes to speculate and advice anyway, in advance.” She silences him with her lips and Anduin obeys, thrusting up gently, just to be on the safe side. Later he learns she’ll have none of that.

 

*****

 

“We’ll continue what was attempted at the Gathering in Arathi Highlands, but this time Sylvanas Windrunner will not be opposing this. You can meet your family members in neutral, safe environments. And there’s more. Anduin Wrynn was able to heal and revive me, and it might be possible for you too, especially with the powers of the naaru who are with us. I admit we have no certainty of the outcome and whether or not it differs much due to everyone’s individual situation, but we will do our best with anyone who wants to try. It might hurt in the beginning, it might hurt throughout. It might not work at all, but without trying we will never know. Any Forsaken is welcome. We call ourselves The Lightbound and we’ll be working in Netherlight Temple and in Light’s Hope Chapel. Contact Archbishop Alonsus Faol here if you are interested. Thank you.”

She bows lightly and looks at the crowd of the Forsaken gathered at the Antonidas Memorial in Dalaran. In the front row there’s the new Desolate Council. Some look angry, some sceptical, some have a sort of awe on their faces. She can only guess what it feels like to see their Banshee Queen as a living being now, apologizing her past deeds unlike any queen would. Do they feel betrayed? Can they feel hope? Most seem impassive as is their usual look.

Further back is a group of her former rangers, lead by her former lover. Nathanos looks defensive but he did agree to this meeting. She remembers how even he, despite his unwavering loyalty, questioned the Dark Lady in the end when she struck down all of the participants of the meeting of families back then. Maybe there’s still hope. Maybe even he could be revived. But it would be in his rights to decline too, if he so wished.

Facing Calia Menethil was one of the most difficult meetings for her. A living and an undead, roles swapped since last time, and Calia’s condition is all her fault. In the end the heir apparent of the lost Lordaeron cooperated gladly seeing there were no traces of the Banshee left in the high elf.

But she does remind her daily about it, sometimes in the form of a joke, sometimes mentioning it neutrally. Sylvanas allows it, knowing it is deserved, even though she isn’t exactly the person that needs to be punished anymore. She is the face of her, anyway, to many people. Especially to her Forsaken who she has promised to take care of even if she is of a different form of existence now.

There is so much to do. They have ideas about further peace talks between the factions, and Queen Taelia with her advisors tentatively supports this. She had demanded Anduin join her council as well, owing it to her for escaping so suddenly from under the burden of the crown. He agreed gladly at the chance of making it up to her. Taelia is magnificent, and as she sometimes says with a small smile, _she had trained her whole life for this._ Her way of governing is less paperwork and ceremony and more action. She is very good at delegating and her warm diplomacy rivals that of her predecessor’s.

Sylvanas, Vereesa and Alleria agree that Quel’Thalas should start considering political independence or even an accord with the Alliance. Neither choice would be likely to happen very soon, however, so they had started to think up a third path, some kind of agreement among all elven races. Sylvanas feels she owes the night elves a home but she has no power nor land to speak of, other than the desecrated Windrunner estate around the Spire. The Scourge-ruined half of Silvermoon City has now been restored so there might be enough space for more inhabitants - if there was enough will. Their idea could be combined with Anduin’s hopes for further Horde-Alliance liaison, but as he now is only an advisor to the crown, though a war hero and in people’s minds still their beloved prince, also his goals need time to ripen to become possible.

Undercity should be purified and made viable again. And there is the whole matter of the Sword of Sargeras.

A great many things need to be addressed in their world, and new threats might arise, like they always did eventually. They would deal with them in time. The two of them, opposites in so many ways when they met, both reborn in the same flash of Holy Light, now have each other to rely on. The challenges of life seem so much lighter with a strong ally by your side.

Sylvanas and Anduin will be phenomenal together.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you like the pompous title choice for the ending chapter? ;)  
> I did start this as a fun smutty pastime but now it’s grown into something that needed a proper sort of ending. I did my best trying to remember all different storylines, groups of people, lore and the bits that I changed in lore when I started this before patch 8.1. For example Battle of Dazar’alor never happened in this fic. And yes, I’m leaving some plotlines open.  
> There will be one cute epilogue chapter after this. Thank you everyone who joined this ride and I hope you enjoyed it!


	29. Epilogue: Quel’Thalas at Lunchtime

WINDRUNNER SPIRE, GHOSTLANDS 

The day is sunny and calm, much like this whole summer has been. After the zone had been cleared of ghouls and new mooncrystals had been placed, the ley lines were active again and there was a real need to figure out a replacement for the name _Ghostlands._

Windrunner Spire is bustling. Sylvanas Windrunner is reclined on red cushions at their makeshift lunch picnic on one of the high platforms of the building, overlooking the ocean. They have been repairing, clearing and cleaning the family home for a week now with the help of the Lightforged and some artisans Lor’themar was happy to let them hire. After hearing the Spire and the nearby village was to be inhabited again some of the Farstriders, among them a few who had served under Sylvanas years ago, wanted to come help as well. Halduron didn’t object - both of them, the Ranger-General and the Regent Lord had visited the estate a couple of times bringing best wishes for the future parents and gifts for Vereesa’s twins. The boys called them “Horde elves” at first but less now as to their amazement they could speak the same language with them.

The Farstriders switched turns with the paladins to protect the surroundings although there were few threats in the area nowadays. But some people still might want to see Sylvanas dead, so Anduin insists on her having bodyguards.

“No, don’t you dare move, Lady Moon. I’ll bring you more grapes.”

“Hey, I’m not completely useless yet, but thank you. Pass the cheese too!” She grins, her other arm placed protectively over her swollen belly. Their child would be born in a few months. Alleria brings her the fruit plate and the void elf’s eyes shift to where her husband and son are. Arator is playing with the boys, they had picked a dragonhawk hatchling from the stables as a pet. Sylvanas glances at them as well.

“They are so beautiful, all of them, in appearance and in the soul. It’s a pity some quel’dorei despise half-elves.”

“Darling, there are very few of those left who call themselves quel’dorei anymore. We might be the last ones.”

“Or we can bring that back.” She puts a grape between her teeth and smiles widely. Suddenly a caress of Light washes over her. Anduin is watching her from the other platform, Galadin sitting on his shoulders now. He’s sporting that short trimmed beard Sylvanas likes so much and the overall sight makes her purr. _He’s going to be such a wonderful father._ She eats the fruit in a humorously seductive way that makes Vereesa chuckle and raise a glass of flower wine towards her.

“Alright, I admit it. He’s so damn hot it’s silly. I will be taking a lover as soon as I run into a suitable one.”

“Good for you, Little Moon. I wonder, will she have my eyes or his?”

“When you say his, do you mean blue or golden? Is the Light hereditary?”

“We need to wait and see, I had Arator before Turalyon’s change.”

“My dear older sisters. Would you like to play the game?”

“I don’t like what it makes me remember.”

“Then we’ll make it better now, Sylvie. You can start.”

“Fine, fine. _One is a lie._ Give me a moment.” She picks another grape and rolls it between her fingers while thinking. 

“One: I don’t fear my own death like I used to.” A memory of a dream, or maybe a real vision if she’s lucky, lingers in the back of her mind. Annhylde had spoken to her, telling her they were both free now. One day she wants to try and find out if that’s what really happened to her Val’kyr.

“Two: I’m amazed one can love so much that it’s scary.”

“Awwh, don’t make me cry, again! And the third?”

Sylvanas watches as her gorgeous husband lets the redhead twins braid his long golden ponytail into a ridiculous elven hairdo. Most people assumed they had fallen in love after she’d become a living elf again and they didn’t bother to correct them. Only a handful of the Forsaken who came for the treatments heard the real story of a human loving an undead. Maybe it would give some of them strength to endure the uncertain process.

“I don’t feel like jumping his bones all the time.” Right at that moment the former High King turns his head towards his wife like he just read her mind. In a way he probably did.

“Oh, get a room you two! I’m sure one of them is already furnished, we brought the beds and tables today.”

“I think we just might. You can tell your truths later”, she says with a wink. The men and boys walk towards them having put the pet animal back into its cage.

“With your condition you are a magician if you can still literally _jump_ on him.”

“Maybe not exactly that, but there are _ways.”_ Her cheeks are so deliciously rosy it’s contagious.

“How’s the lunch, ladies? May we join?”

“Aunt Sylvanas! I wanted to tell you that I’m not afraid of you anymore!” The younger twin beams happily, holding Anduin’s hand.

“Is it true uncle Anduin healed you and that’s why you became an elf again?” Giramar looks serious and expectant. 

“Yes, he did. He’s very powerful. He’s trying to heal other Forsaken as well.”

“Is your child going to be like us?” 

Tears threaten to escape her eyes. “Yes, I think your cousin will be like you. Come here.” She hugs the boy and sighs. _A family._ What is this perpetual dream of hearts beating and people caring about each other? Even Greymane, the newly crowned king of the rebuilt Gilneas, has been fussing around them like the unborn were his grandchild - it's adorable and they welcome it. They would have to name several godparents to avoid quarrels between the Exodar and Gilneas. In addition to the blood relatives there will be an extra aunt - Jaina visited them as often as she could from Kul Tiras.

Sometimes life was too sweet to even comprehend.

“Come to think of it, I might need some healing right now. Anduin, there’s this room up the northern tower I would like you to see. It used to be my study.” She extends her hand and the future father helps her up grinning like nobody was watching them. _He’s beginning to learn._

“Of course, my queen. Lead the way.”

Some time later the two sisters start a joke about Windrunner Spire becoming a lighthouse.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There we go, fluff after fluff <3 Cya at some other world hopefully.


End file.
